


The Death of Me

by Crazythatcounts



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Assassination, M/M, Politics, Subterfuge, Trans Inquisitor, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazythatcounts/pseuds/Crazythatcounts
Summary: The story is over - the bad guy is finished, the heroes can rest, and Dorian is to leave for Tevinter. But an accident leads to circumstances beyond their control, and Dorian finds he'll get the heir he wants from the man he loves.But not everyone wants the baby to happen, and they'll do everything to stop it.Spoilers for the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition.





	1. Follow You Into The Dark

"I bet Tevinter is nice this time of year." The Inquisitor said, softly, breaking a long silence that he'd been hiding in, a bitter sadness to his words. He was on the balcony of his quarters at Skyhold, hands gripping the railing with a tight, white knuckled grip, a gentle snow drifting in from the mountains. They'd done everything they'd set out to do - Corypheus had been defeated, the Fade rifts had been closed, the Dragons were gone, and there was nothing else but the busy work that came with running an Inquisition, especially as the Empires around them started to turn and sour now that the threat was gone - but Nylian had hoped, maybe, there was something more. Maybe something would crop up, something to get them all fighting again, if only to delay the inevitable. He had no reason to be so broken up about this, not really, because he knew it was coming - he knew all the reasons for it, why it had to happen this way and why there was nothing to do but accept it. But Dorian having to finally return to Tevinter still hurt him in ways he didn't expect, and he'd taken solace in the bitter cold of his balcony to keep from crying when he heard it was finally happening.

 

"If only you could join me." Dorian said, softly, from the doorway. He'd found the Inquisitor after lunch, and the news he was leaving in the morning was hard to break, but he had to do it. As the Tevinter liaison to the Inquisition, he was of better service buried in the thralls of the Tevinter elite, rather than schmoozing with the locals in Skyhold, and besides - he wanted to change things, desperately, and he couldn't do that from so far away. But he really couldn't judge too much - he was just as upset, but years of burying who he was gave him a brilliant poker face and a scathing wit to match. "But we both know that won't work out how we hope." He looked past Nylian and over the mountains, leaning against the threshold of the doorway, arms crossed.

 

"If it's not one reason, it's another." Nylian said, after a moment, and they were both right - he needed to stay, just as Dorian needed to go and do what felt right. He knew why he couldn't leave, as did Dorian, but it didn't make the reasons any more palpable or the act of easier. For one, he had an Inquisition to run, and he had to be around for it - sure, he could go traipsing around the country, but he had to be able to come back every so often to check up on Cullen and the troops before they started a war on his behalf - and the longer Nylian stayed away, the more likely it would become. For two, Dalish Elves, even ones like Nylian, who were dating the Elite of the Tevinter and still known around Thedas as the Herald of Andreste, weren't exactly the most welcome sights in Tevinter. He remembered his trip to the Winter Palace well enough to know getting called "rabbit" would be the least of his concerns. For three, and probably the most limiting, he needed to stay near Mother Giselle as much as entirely possible, because she was the only healer he knew that both could and would mix the right herbs together to keep his masculinity a forefront and not a hindsight.

 

He sighed, balling his fists against the railing. Being transgender - born with all the wrong parts for assembly and with no way to exchange them - wasn't exactly _illegal_ in Thedas. He was fine to exist as he pleased, but there were certain thoughts that never quite went away that could end up with him coming to harm, and there were no legal routes for him to take to fix those thoughts. Being transgender was all well and good and dandy as long as you didn't bother anyone else with it or the problems it caused. He had to keep very much under the radar with all his herbs and complaints about his body because most people would take signs of him being transgender as a sign he wasn't willing to conform to whatever ideology they wanted him to suffer, and he'd end up more of a social pariah than usual, if not possibly beaten or in jail for some arbitrary ill that didn't really matter at all. Adding that gay males in Tevinter society were not supposed to be more than a fling and that he was in the long term kind of thing with Dorian meant that he really couldn't be in Tevinter and also be out in any kind of capacity, let alone the kind that would let him hold hands with Dorian in public.

 

He understood the comment about screaming on the inside more than Dorian probably realized.

 

"Now, now," Nylian felt strong arms around his waist, and while the feeling didn't abate, they were a comfort all the same. He relaxed into the arms, Dorian's chin resting against his shoulder, the mage's voice soft. "You know this isn't some permanent goodbye. As your liason, I _will_ have to visit occasionally, and we can always meet in Tevinter. Arrange a few clandestine meetings, offhand walks around the country side, late night rendezvous, the slightest brush of hands the only affection we could show in public, two steps shy of a real scandal at all times - who knows, we could inspire Varric to write another novel with our adventures. You could sneak your way into my house, even. I'll leave a window open, let you climb onto the veranda, or you could serenade me from the courtyard when you arrive." He grinned, his voice that soft teasing, all his ideas toeing that line between practical and trashy-romance-novel nonsense. It was hard to stay upset when he was being so flirty, and it was clear the romantic notions were an attempt to cheer Nylian up. He had a way of clearing out a bad mood, and Nylian would probably miss that the most.

 

"Yes, and a Dalish elf crawling through your open window in the middle of the night is just what your parents would want to see." Nylian joked back, turning to lean against the railing. Dorian's arms went lax, and they pulled apart briefly, though not entirely, as Dorian was warm where the mountain's cold had chilled Nylian to the bone. "That's how the Herald of Andraste finally dies - not to dragons or demons or gods, but for trying to see his lover without parental permission."

 

"The worst thing that could happen is they jail you very briefly until I bail you out." Dorian chided, grinning. "As long as I don't come back to find you've taken up with another man again, that is something I can guarantee I'll do." He referenced an old incident, just after the attempted assassination of Empress Celene, where Nylian had spent several weeks off doing no one knew what with a man no one saw the face of. Nylian pursed his lips in a frown.

 

"I assure you, again, my intentions were pure, and so were his. We had to subvert a very private incident without any fuss. He was as honest with me as you would have been." Nylian said, a little defensive. Dorian was joking this time, of course, but this wasn't the first time they'd had the conversation, and Nylian didn't want this to turn into a fuss. Not when Dorian was leaving the next day. The first time they had the conversation, Dorian had been briefly convinced that Nylian had lied about them being a long term item, and that they were just some brief fling, and the Elf had spent two weeks trying to make up for the slight.

 

"Well then, I'm now _very_ sure he was trying to woo you, if he was as honest as I would have been." Dorian teased, and the Inquisitor sighed, because at least this time Dorian wasn't trying to make this some issue. "If that were me under that mask, and my first glimpse of you was a young, bright eyed Elf wandering about the castle by himself in that red and blue uniform, I would have _definitely_ tried to get him in my bed." He grinned.

 

"You _did_ try and get me in your bed when you first saw me." Nylian replied, standing. He took Dorian's hands as he moved, dragging the other inside, as he was finally too cold to brood out there. Inside Skyhold, the castle held warmth, and with the doors closed it was almost like there wasn't snow outside. Of course, there was still a chill, as stone walls left much to be desired, but it was better. "Much to the distaste of your parents."

 

"Yes, well, there's _nothing_ I've done in my life to please them so far. I'm surprised they haven't disowned me yet." Dorian followed, trailing along with a dramatic sigh. "I suppose they'll attempt to marry me off again once I get back, thinking this relationship ended with my departure. Another attempt at an heir, or at least Tevinter normalcy. Luckily I've had many years training on how to get out of those kinds of deals, so there's no _real_ worry."

 

"I'd marry you now, if you needed the excuse." Nylian pulled Dorian to sit on the bed with them, and once they were settled, he relaxed back onto the comforter, staring at the ceiling, arms behind his head. The bed would feel far too big alone, he thought, briefly.

 

"It's a wonderful thought, of course." Dorian replied, and Nylian felt him settle onto his back as well, and the movement pulled him away from the negative thoughts. "But no, if I was going to ask for your hand, I'd ask you in a more public place. If I'm going to change anything back home, I won't do it by hiding who I am behind closed doors anymore." He shifted, rolling onto his side to see Nylian's face, which was a soft mask of distaste. "One more reason Tevinter is not for you, I suppose - for all the power you wield, publicity isn't your thing. You're lucky you have such a pretty face at your side to guide you."  

 

"I am very lucky indeed." Nylian rolled over, facing Dorian with a sad grin. "The Inquisition will suffer greatly without your handsome face at the helm. Who knows, maybe you'll have to return because it'll all collapse without your charm. You come back to find we're all squabbling about unimportant matters, and your radiance brings us all back to our senses."

 

"One can only hope." Dorian leaned in to press a kiss to the Inquisitor's lips, before sitting up on the bed and pulling an item from his pocket. It was a crystal on a string, small in his hand, but clear as glass and polished until it glistened like the falling snow. "I did have one small gift for you, in case you do need me. I have another crystal like this, and they're linked together - they can send images and voices between them, no matter the distance. It won't be quite as good as talking to you in person, but until I can come and visit, it'll have to do. Just hold it tight for a moment, and it'll glow on my end, and I'll know you're trying to get in touch with me." He turned, passing the crystal over to Nylian, who sat up to take it. The Elf turned it over in his hands - his hands pale, long fingers, battle worn across the knuckles from his bow, the crystal surprisingly soft and smooth in comparison - and placed it on his neck, tucking it under his shirt. It was small, and the images would be blurry and hard to see, but just hearing Dorian's voice would have been a gift in and of itself.

 

"I'll cherish it always." Nylian murmured, pressing a hand to his chest where the crystal lay. It rested softly between what little breast he had, and while it was a strange reminder of what his body was, he didn't mind it there. "I have a gift for you, too, though it is a little less intimate." He smiled, and Dorian looked at him quizzically, face asking what gift the Inquisitor could have even gotten in ways words couldn't. "I figured you were leaving fairly soon, though honestly not quite this soon, so I arranged a party for you tonight, so you could say goodbye to everyone. After, I asked to be unbothered for a while, so once we depart from the party we'll have until you leave to ourselves to do as we wish."

 

"All that time to ourselves?" Dorian purred, the way he always did when he was intimately pleased. Nylian liked the tone of his voice then, the soft hum of it, the way his lips curled just slightly. "I'm going to have to get creative, then." He grinned, and it was not unlike a shark, but in a way that didn't make Nylian afraid at all. The Inquisitor grinned back. Even if the next day promised sorrows and pain, that night was going to be worth every second.

 

~*~*~

 

Nylian woke the next morning feeling relaxed and relatively pleased, a gentle trail of sunlight cast on his face. He was naked under a thin sheet, sprawled on his bed at Skyhold, Dorian wrapped tightly around him, also naked. He was thin, pale, long legs twined with Dorian's, the thin dark lines of the tattoos on his face twisting slightly as he yawned, cheeks awash with pink and soft freckles and a cheery sort of glow. He ruffled his own hair - pale, like his skin, and short - before rolling over to cradle Dorian against him, the memories of the night before slowly flittering in through an alcohol buzzed lens.

 

The party had been what Nylian had imagined it would be, with the entirety of Skyhold in attendance, but the group he and Dorian called friends had been the most active participants. He drifted through the memories, the wine sweet on his tongue, the fire warm. He remembered Varric, the bitter smile of the inevitable, " _You know, for all your pomp and flair, Sparkler, I'm gonna miss ya"_ , a clap on Dorian's shoulders as close to a hug as the small man would get. Sera's usual babbling escaped him and his memory, though he recalled soft laughter, Dorian's voice slightly panicked, and bits of her side of the conversation - mostly the vague, winding threat she made that if Dorian broke his heart she'd march her and every other Jenny she knew up to Tevinter and throw bees at the mages. They'd played a game or several of Wicked Grace, even convincing Cullen to join them for a round, and they'd both lost terribly, but enjoyed it all the same. It was just as fun to lose as it was to win, in the company they were in, Nylian had realized.

 

The night had grown late quickly, and Nylian struggled to sort through the events as people came and went quicker and quicker, trying to get in last goodbyes and well wishes in between drinks and petit fours. The clearest thing he remembered from the later part of the night was Bull's affectionate teasing that Nylian would be " _well cared for while Dorian was away_ ", the flirty wink bringing a heavy heat to Nylian's face and something a little more possessive to Dorian's. He remembered the response was something about sharing, but it was lost amid the thought of Bull, large as he was, taking over where Dorian left off.

 

If he hadn't been the loyal sort, he would have considered it - he'd already had the thought once, before he and Dorian had become a thing, but hesitation about outing himself and a little fear of what Bull packed in his pants cut the thought off the first time, and it didn't help the second.

 

They'd stumbled off sometime after that, hanging off each other in intoxication, babbling stupidly about magic and parents and how " _parties aren't ever this much fun back home_ " as they fumbled their way up the stairs. Fumbling steps led to fumbling hands, fumbling lips, and one thing drunkenly led to another. This wasn't the first time they'd met together like this, and it wouldn't be the last, either - they enjoyed each other too much to stay abstinent, even neck deep in the field. But this night was different - usually, both parties were sober, and avoided use of Nylian's feminine genitalia. He didn't particularly like stimulation there, as it was both physically and mentally uncomfortable at best, and Dorian didn't feel that, as a gay man dating another man, vaginal sex was particularly productive towards that identity. They'd both worked so very hard to feel alright with who they was that they usually agreed sex in that regard was almost a step backwards for both of them personally, and should be avoided. However, that night, at some point, Dorian missed the usual mark, and Nylian found that he _enjoyed_ the stimuation there, for once.

 

Lying there, though, in the light of the morning, he felt differently about the encounter. He felt _odd_ , his brain hardwired down to thinking even the most basic of use made him less of a man, because the morning greeted him with the subtle twinge and tickle he wasn't used to as a constant reminder of what took place. There was pleasure, sure, plenty of it, but there was no more than usual, and he decided then and there he was swearing off using his vagina for anything. Dorian yawned, pressed his face to Nylian's chest, mustache tickling his side. "I see you're up early." He said, looking up over the small mounds of Nylian's breasts, barely bigger than the average pecs, and the Inquisitor hummed softly.

 

"Yes, well." Nylian shifted so they were more face to face, Dorian's cheek resting against his shoulder instead, and the mage didn't mind the change. "I'd like to spend as much time with you as I can, and I can't very well do that when I'm asleep."

 

"I see your wit is awake as well." Dorian hummed, softly. He sat up, stretching, getting out of bed to fetch some water from a pitcher they had set aside. "Sad you won't need your wit for what I have planned for this morning." Dorian shot the other a grin over his shoulder.

 

"As long as we don't make a repeat occurrence of last night." Nylian said, sitting up himself. Dorian finished his glass and poured another, bringing it over to his lover, perching on the side of the bed. He seemed to understand without the words _why_ they shouldn't repeat the incident, even if they did have more sex that night. The water was cold, refreshing, Nylian's head a little achy after the night's drinking.

 

"Of course." Dorian was always more than accommodating, and it wasn't like keeping that promise meant they couldn't have more sex. "So you know, it wasn't intentional, though as far as my memory serves, you _did_ enjoy it." He grinned, but before Nylian could speak, he spoke again, face softer. "Ah, wait, that doesn't mean I intend on doing that again. I also enjoyed it, for the record, though I do feel a bit _odd_ about it, now that I think on it. I feel like, for both our sakes, we should just do this more sober next time and it won't be a problem."

 

"Agreed." Nylian grinned, feeling less at odds now that they both were on the same page. This, he told himself, falling back into Dorian's arms with a soft kiss, is why he fell for the mage in the first place, and why no one else could replace him.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Dorian left later that afternoon, with a caravan headed to Tevinter and a grand fair-well. Nylian, once the caravan was completely out of sight, retreated to the safety of his quarters, and that's where he stayed. The first night was expected, but then the absence began to linger, and his advisors started to worry. Josephine would leave small amounts of food - left over cakes, small amounts of salted meats and breads and cheese - and find them gone on her next check in, but Nylian refused to open the door when she knocked. One day turned into two, then three, and then that turned into five and six, and still, they didn't see him. "He's mourning. This is quite a loss for him." Josephine said, softly, on the seventh day, sitting at her desk. Leliana sat on the edge of it, Cullen standing by the fire.

 

"It's not like Dorian _died_." Cullen grumbled, the most miffed at this turn of events, staring at the fire. Everything in Skyhold was at a complete standstill until they managed to rouse the Inquisitor from his chambers, and Cullen was bearing the worst of it. Relations with other Empires took time - seven days off barely made a dent in how the girls handled their affairs - but the troops were growing restless and he was running out of tasks to give them. With no war and no evil ascending to god-hood bad guy on the horizon to worry about, they had little else to train for, and they could only clean the castle so many times before it was obvious Cullen was just buying time. "It's been quite long enough."

 

"It is not for us to decide how deeply Dorian's departure affected him." Leliana said, standing from the desk. "But I have an idea that _might_ get him out of his room, at least. Or get us inside it." She smiled, her small, sly smile, and started for the kitchens, the other two trailing behind after realizing that she wasn't just going to up and tell them her plan. It was simple, really, and nothing worth explaining at length in words - that night, she planned on leaving several rather large and potent bottles of wine at Nylian's door along with whatever small food the kitchens had fixed, and in the morning she hoped he would feel a little better. Or at least would need something to stem the pain, which meant leaving his room, which was better than staying in.

 

The next morning, Josephine and Cullen were tasked with checking on the Inquisitor, and they found his door unlocked for the first time in a week. Cullen peered inside first, heading up the stairs, and Josephine followed, and they both paused at the top, stuck somewhere between surprise and pity. The room was a mess, strewn with clothes and blankets and cast offs of food and empty bottles, and half the furniture was either out of place or on its side. There was glass scattered near the door to outside, and a pane was broken, like someone had thrown something at the glass and shattered it, leaving the room cold. The offending boot was outside on the balcony, touched slightly with new snow. Amid the swirling blankets across the floor, there were small rags, spotted with blood, not much, but like someone had stepped in the glass and had to staunch the bleeding quickly without going to anyone outside the room to help. Nylian was curled in the blankets on the bed, obviously naked, asleep on his stomach, with a bottle empty by his head. He snored softly, the only sound in the room.

 

"I see my plan worked as expected." Leliana said, appearing at the stairs behind them, and Cullen jumped at her sudden appearance. She moved like a wraith, silent, a whisper of nothing until she wanted to be seen, and he wasn't ever going to get used to that. Josephine barely reacted, as her social training prepared her for just about anything, and she had a decent poker face because of it.  "I'll deal with getting him up and dressed."

 

"I'll get someone to come tend whatever is bleeding." Josephine said, softly. She couldn't deal with seeing the room in such shambles, and she knew the only thing she could do was get the proper help to put it to rights.  "And get the blankets to be cleaned." She nodded, always in damage control, heading back down the stairs. Cullen was the most visibly affected, seeing the Inquisitor like that, and he stared at the state of the room for a long moment.

 

"Strange, is it?" Leliana said, clearing a small path to the bed between the various refuse. "Remembering he's still mortal by seeing him fall?" She paused by the bed, picking the wine bottle up and setting it aside. There was a small wine stain under it, and she wiped the excess off the bottle with a nearby rag.  

 

"No, I just..." Cullen trailed off, starting the process of wrapping up a blanket like he needed to be occupied. "We've been through so much, with the Breach, and Corypheus, and he was always so level headed and calm, but then this..." Cullen paused, blanket in hand.

 

"Love is strange, Commander." Leliana shook her head, watching the Inquisitor sleep. It was clear to her that he hadn't slept for days, and his eyes were red around the edges and there was a darkness to his face that suggested he'd been crying. "It is both a blessing, and a sickness." She sighed. "It is probably best if I wake him alone. He'll want breakfast, I imagine. He's barely eaten for a week."

 

"Alright, if you're sure." Cullen set the blanket down, hovering a moment longer. He looked at her, and he said nothing, but his face screamed it all - if this was what happened when Dorian left, then maybe they should get him back. Leliana put on a smile meant to be reassuring, that this was fairly normal for this kind of thing, and that Nylian would be his old self again in no time. "I'll contact the kitchen, they'll be happy to whip something up." He nodded, and headed down the stairs, leaving Leliana alone with the Inquisitor. She pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, pressing a soft hand to his back, a sly smile on her lips.

 

"Don't worry, Inquisitor. Your secret is safe with me. Now come on, let's get you cleaned up."


	2. Charming Disaster

It took Leliana all day to get the Inquisitor on his feet - the hangover on no food was _brutal_ \- and another full day of peaceful relaxation, wandering the gardens and seeing the sun again, before he was ready to get back to work. The sunlight did him wonders, and he came to the war table with a somber, soft smile on his face, but a smile all the same. Cullen thanked the Maker and Andraste and all the world, because the troops were more than restless at that point and having Nylian back at the wheel meant he had jobs for them all to do - mostly post-conflict cleanup, but it was better than twiddling their thumbs - but the girls weren't as exuberant. They could both feel that the air around Nylian was tense, tight like it was physically holding something in, and his smiles were brief but tight across his face. Something needed to happen, but they couldn't figure out what, and there was no use forcing an outcome without an idea of what needed to happen.

 

Dorian's arrival in Tevinter, two long weeks later, was signaled with their first communication over the crystal, and it was like the room's water finally broke, the atmosphere finally breathing out all that it held in. Dorian had no trouble in his travels, though he complained loudly about the woods, and that he would only ever make that trek again for Nylian, because he loved the man so, but otherwise he was fine. This seemed to be the thing Nylian was waiting for, as after the call, his smiles were brighter, and he seemed to breathe easier, laugh quicker, and in general seem happier. He seemed even like his old self.

 

Weeks passed like that, with Dorian and Nylian talking near daily, the Inquisitor holding up in the little library corner they had always talked in, sunlight from the window bright on his face as they chatted. He'd remain there for hours at a time, before tending to whatever duties were waiting - sometimes, they'd find he'd fallen asleep there, and give him a blanket. Otherwise, Skyhold operated as normal - the armies moved as armies did, the people lived as people tend to live, and the Inquisition moved as it needed, and for a month it seemed like everything was at peace.

 

The first sign that something was wrong was pain. Pain in Nylian's lower abdomen so bad, he would leave the war table at sometimes the worst moments to go lie down, because to continue to stand made him feel like he would die. It was a curling, pulling pain, the sharp, tight, inward pain of a cramp, a pain he'd felt before but not that bad and not in a long time, and it would slip from dull ache to hot knife in moments and then back again. He pushed through when he could, of course, because he couldn't exactly tell his advisors what was wrong - it was clear his ovaries or uterus was mad at something, which considering his medication routine wasn't exactly _new,_ but he wasn't exactly out to his advisors, and didn't want to worry them over nothing. After a few days, it seemed like the cramps were finally evening out to a dull roar, a consistent but dull, throbbing ache. Even as the ache spread to his chest, making it tender, he didn't seem to take notice, too wrapped up in the comings and goings of the world to worry much on it - too wrapped up in his nightly talks with Dorian, where he seemed to find some comfortable peace.

 

It was when he threw up his herbal medication - not the first time, nor the second, but the third time he tried to take it - that he realized there might be an issue he needed to get help with. He felt awful, the gurgling ache of nausea and the dull pull in his belly not a good mix, and one evening, a month after Dorian's arrival in Tevinter, he finally decided it was time to check in with Mother Giselle. He had missed several doses of his herbs, and he was starting to feel it, the cramps sharper with every missed dose, and he didn't know what to do. He just couldn't keep them down, and there was little other way to take them - was he suddenly allergic to Spindleweed? To Deep Mushrooms? To the way it was brewed or mashed together? He couldn't deal with it anymore, so he snuck out as the rest of the castle found their way to bed, walking softly down the many stairs to the tent Mother Giselle had among the other healers. She lived alone in her tent, but she also cared for the sick there, so he had to be careful, because he couldn't be seen going to her. It would cause a fuss among all the wrong people and he didn't want to have to deal with that right then. He peered into her tent, pulling back the edge just ever so slightly, and she was awake, and luckily, alone. She didn't jump or seem to be startled by his entrance, and her attention turned to him with a measured patience only those that heal could have.

 

"I think something's wrong, Mother Giselle." Nylian cut off any _Your Worship_ greeting quickly, speaking in a hushed whisper, an urgency to his tone, letting the tent close behind him softly. Now that he was out of the public eye, he could put down the facade, and he looked like he was in pain, like he was about to cry, like he thought he might be dying. She stood, reading the urgency and taking the initiative, moving to him, helping him sit on one of her cots.

 

"Tell me what troubles you, Inquisitor." She soothed, and her hands were cool and felt nice on Nylian's arms. Her voice was calm, and he found himself less afraid because of it. The true touch of a healer was the ability to take even the most fearful and bring them peace, and Mother Giselle had it in droves.

 

"Pain, mostly. Lots of pain, mostly here-" He pressed his hands to his abdomen, just under the slight curve of his stomach, and he didn't see her brown furrow slightly in concern, "But also in my chest, like I'm sore. And I'd--I'd be okay if that was it, but I haven't been able to drink the tea you gave me, I can't keep it down. I don't feel like I'd be good at keeping anything down, to be honest. I'm dizzy often, but I can't figure out what's causing this." He looked at her, and there was a moment where her eyes met his, and his gut clenched in worry. She had a look on her face that said she knew what was wrong, and that he wouldn't like it, but she didn't say anything for a long moment, her lips pursed.

 

"Do two things for me." She said, stepping away to her beside. She kept a cabinet with various things in it, and from it she produced a bottle, dark in color. It seemed full. "Drink this tonight before you retire for the evening. Come to me once you wake in the morning and tell me if anything has changed. Also, the next time you need to relieve yourself, I will need a sample."

 

"A... sample?" The concept wasn't exactly something Nylian was comfortable with, and it showed on his face, but Mother Giselle's smile was reassuring.

 

"If I am to test your humors to see if they are in balance, I must first have access to something to test." She said, softly. "I feel I may know the source of your distress already, but I must complete both of these tests before I can be sure. I would not want to act in error, should my assumptions be incorrect." She looked at him again, and there was that face, that _you won't like it if I'm right_ face, and Nylian felt his gut churn.

 

"Alright, I'll get you what you need." He said, taking the bottle. He could smell it through the cork, and it smelled sweet and thick and heady, and it sloshed inside like it was a syrup. His stomach gurgled in protest at the idea of drinking it, but he held onto it anyway. He trusted her, and her knowledge, and he knew he had no other choice. She'd been privy to his secret for a while now, and she hadn't told a soul, which garnered a lot of trust in Nylian's book. He could have probably found a mage and gotten things taken care of in a little more of a seamless way, but there was something comforting about using herbs and keeping what could be erratic magic away from his personal parts. He knew magic would be ultimately better, but he also didn't trust it, and while he fought for mages day in and day out, he just didn't trust any one of them in particular to help him, except Dorian. And he couldn't ask Dorian to use blood magic on him.

 

~*~*~

 

The next morning, he stumbled down to Mother Giselle's tent just after the break of dawn, and she seemed to know immediately she was right. He'd gotten her the sample - with little trouble, awkward though it may have been - and he'd drank from the bottle the night before, just before going to bed. The drink was sweet, thick, almost like pure honey but even sweeter, and his stomach almost protested the action, and when he awoke that morning, the pain was intense and centered higher than normal. He stumbled down to her tent clutching his stomach, barely able to walk, and she immediately sat him down, shaking her head with worry. He looked at her, and she knew, and her face was drawn and concerned.

 

"Is this it, Mother Giselle?" He asked, laying down and curling on his side on the cot. She disappeared for a moment, coming back with a blanket she'd been warming by the fire, like she knew he'd be in pain, and the warmth helped settle the ache as he lay there. "Am I dying?"

 

"No, no." She shook her head, sitting on the cot next to him, and she was silent for a moment, staring at the door to her tent. When she spoke again, she seemed to know the gravity of her words, and she spoke them slowly. "I believe you are pregnant."

 

Nylian didn't move for a long moment, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, the pain a dull ache at his middle, just trying to _process_ the idea. Pregnant. Carrying a child. As a man. He knew, because of his unfortunate physical mix up - _thanks_ , Maker, for that, he thought to himself often - it was _physically_ possible, of course. He had all the right bits and parts to make a child and carry it, but he was a _man_. Men didn't, or shouldn't, carry babies in the womb - at least as far as everyone else saw it. He looked down at his stomach, flat as it still was, and tried to imagine it bigger, heavier, the ache of it, and... it didn't bother him. He felt like he should be bothered, but he couldn't force it. All he could feel was something close to apathy - he didn't necessarily _want_ a child, but he wasn't against being a parent in the long run either, so the fact that it might come out of _him_ wasn't honestly a game changer. He didn't know if it would be a game changer once his figure started to change, but he also couldn't find issue with it when he tried to see himself like that.

 

"Can you be sure?" He asked, softly, sitting up. It weighed on him, whether it bothered him or not, having this kid. Now that he thought about it, no, he didn't feel less like a man for having it - sure, he would have some fighting to do, and it would be hard, but he'd realized this baby was likely Dorian's - either that, or some strange miracle child, which he honestly wouldn't be surprised by. Most likely, though, it was Dorian's, and his family wanted nothing more than for him to marry well and have an heir. What better heir for them, and outcome for him, than for Nylian to have the child - if, of course, Dorian wanted to go through with this. They needed to discuss it, because he couldn't make the decision on his own, and he felt it was Dorian's right to know at least what was going on, if not have a say in it. All Nylian honestly wanted for himself at that moment was for the terrible part to end, so he didn't feel like he was dying so much, as the pain and nausea were clouding his ability to judge. 

 

"Yes, I am certain." Mother Giselle looked at him, and there was that knowing in her eyes that he'd seen before. It didn't matter what tests she did, she was a woman, and a healer, and she knew well enough the workings and symptoms of other women - or in this case, men who also happen to have vaginas - who were pregnant. "Both tests came back the same, and your symptoms are common. Do you believe you will carry it?" She looked at him, and there was something else there, almost a warning.  He looked down again at his stomach, pressing a hand there, thinking.

 

"I'm not sure. I don't feel _odd_ , like this. I don't know if that feeling will change, but... I want to discuss it with Dorian. In person." He nodded, like that was a good enough time frame - it was two weeks out to Tevinter, which was a decent enough time to think on it himself, see if his feelings changed over time. Her warning look solidified to something stronger.

 

"You will not have much time, if you travel to Tevinter. In the Chantry, we do not take the death of the unborn lightly. If you carry the child for too long, I will not be able to undo what has been done. Most women who come to me heavy with children they do not want, I turn away - every child is a gift from the Maker to be cherished, and not discarded. But I will make an exception, considering your.... condition. Do not take this offer lightly, as I make it only because you have been becoming a man under my care." She looked at him, and there was a moment when Nylian was almost mad, but he didn't let it get to him - he understood the Chantry bylaws well enough to know that getting rid of a pregnancy too late for the Chantry would be considering infanticide, for both him and her, and considering his relationship with the Chantry was iffy at best, he knew it would take Divine intervention - literally - to keep him from getting served death for it.

 

"You will need to return immediately if you travel to Tevinter and do not wish to have the child." She stood, kneeling next to Nylian, so she could face him. Her face was drawn with concern, and something Nylian could pick out as hope. Hope for a future. "But I hope you do not choose that path. Every child is a gift from the Maker. We are asked to make sacrifices for the future, but we are given a wondrous gift in return. This child will be special, Inquisitor. It will be a baby born of two men - it will be a gift from Andraste herself, as you were a gift to us from her. Do not throw away its future lightly."

 

"I won't." He answered, softly. He knew he needed to think about this, that it was a tough decision and shouldn't be rushed through. It was comforting to know he had the option to get rid of it, even at the risk of punishment from the Chantry, and that Mother Giselle still supported the decision he made, even if she might not have been in favor of it. He needed to leave for Tevinter as soon as possible so that he and Dorian could decide together, which meant he needed to go have a chat with his advisors and try and leave by the end of that day. They needed to be informed of what was happening, to quell any issues before they started and so they could know why he was running to Tevinter without so much as a day's warning. He stood, and he felt heavier, like he could _feel_ the baby in his stomach, even though it probably wasn't all that big. "Can you do me a favor, Mother Giselle?" He asked, softly, pressing a hand to his stomach. "I'll need a midwife, if I keep it, and I'd like if you could find a surgeon for me."

 

"A midwife will be easy to find, a surgeon much harder. Why, may I ask, do you wish for a surgeon?" Mother Giselle stood with him, leading him to the door. She spoke quietly, and he paused before he left so no one else would hear.

 

"Whether or not I wish to keep the child, I do not want this womb in me any longer. One tiny miracle, or mistake, is enough for my lifetime, and I would like not to experience this again." He chuckled, and she nodded, understanding.

 

"I will do my best." She said, leading him outside. The sun was finally really coming up over the walls of Skyhold, and everyone was starting to rouse from their sleep. "Go and do what is needed, I will be here if you require me. I must attend to the others. Good morning, your Worship." She nodded, heading off to go see to the other patients, leaving Nylian alone. He looked up at the sky, and the sun there, and pressed a hand to his stomach. The idea of having a baby was rising in him as something good, something he wasn't really against - warm, like the sun, and he smiled at it and the thought of it. He'd probably regret the choice later, but he couldn't think about that right then. He had other matters to attend to.

 

He needed to tell the others, before Leliana found out on her own.


	3. Secrets

 Nylian moved as quickly as he could up the stairs to the castle before anyone could see him, though that wasn't very quickly at all, considering the pain that still lingered like hot lead in his stomach. He knew Leliana's people were _everywhere_ , and she couldn't resist a secret, even if it was his secret and even if he was about to tell her as soon as he got into the castle. He managed to make it inside without much distress, though he had to take a small break, as the pain in his system hadn't abated and while he hadn't eaten anything yet that day his stomach didn't particularly care.

 

Traveling to Tevinter was going to be a _bitch_.

 

Josephine was in her office when he reached the hallway, trying very hard to not look like he was a stumbling mess and keep his head upright and proper, and she stood when she saw him continue past. He rarely had to summon them to the War Room himself those days, because Josephine would get them all on their way by the time he finished walking down the long hallway. The hallway felt longer, moving as slowly as he did, trying to keep his face serene and his posture even taking more energy than he thought it would, and Josephine nearly caught up to him as he opened the door. There was quiet as she made her way into the room, as there always was quiet - when they met there, they usually waited for the Inquisitor to speak first, not out of a rule but a sense of respect, like the hush of a library in the late evening. Cullen followed quickly after, having half jogged from his office that he insisted on taking, but Leliana remained missing. However, the pain in Nylian's belly wasn't going anywhere, so he felt the need to get started anyway, before he needed to double over against the table or go lie down before he fell. She'd catch up.

 

"First order of business," Nylian said, leaning a little on the table, trying to hide the _dear god kill me_ of pain on his face and mostly succeeding, "I need to take a trip to Tevinter, leaving as soon as I am physically able. I do not know how long I will be in Tevinter, so you will need to prepare for me to be gone quite a while. At the least, it will be a month." He looked up at them, a flicker of pain there that he controlled fairly well, but before he could say more, Leliana spoke instead. She'd been lingering at the back of the room, silent, listening, having arrived several moments earlier, and he could almost _feel_ her before she spoke.

 

"Does this have to do with your visit to Mother Giselle this morning?" She asked, and when he turned there was a smile on her face and _she knew_. Nylian loved having Leliana on his team - she was probably _the_ best spy they had - but he also hated having her so close, because there were no such thing as secrets. She knew he and Dorian were dating before they did, which said a lot. "How is she, by the way? I haven't gone to speak to her myself in quite a while."

 

"She's doing well." Nylian forced the words out between his teeth, partially his show of distaste at her questions and partially to contain the sound he wanted to make as the pain momentarily burst hot behind his navel, and she smiled a little broader, moving into the room fully and letting the door close behind her. She seemed to take just a _little_ delight in knowing his secret, though it wasn't going to be a secret much longer, whether she had anything to do with it or not.

 

"Sir, are you alright? If you're ill, we can bring healers to _you_ , rather than have you go all that way." Cullen asked, softly, quickly, concern on his face. Josephine, too, looked concerned, the soft face of worry she reserved for times out of the public eye.

 

"It might not be wise to travel if you are feeling under the weather, Inquisitor. I could call in a few favors, if you would prefer such." She looked at him, and he could tell she knew he'd been in pain  - how many people knew about his pain, he asked himself - and she wanted to help. She just didn't know the extent of the issue.

 

"I'm fine, I promise. If I needed a healer, I would send for one, but this is a different issue entirely." Nylian sighed, crossing his arms. He sighed again, the long resigned sigh of someone who's entire plan just went to absolute hell and there was nothing to do about it but get on with it. "As Leliana apparently _already_ knows, I did visit Mother Giselle this morning, but I am not ill. I'm pregnant." He let the words hit the table and sit there a moment, lingering in the still silence of the room, Leliana looking particularly satisfied with herself, like she caused him to spill this secret. No one spoke for a long moment, Cullen's brow furrowed, Josephine's lips pursed, the air thick with confusion.  "I was intending to tell you _before_ Leliana addressed my morning visit, just not exactly in this way." Nylian watched Leliana's satisfied smile sink a little, and that was all the vengeance he needed for that, and he let himself be satisfied for a moment.

 

"I'm sorry, I think I misheard." Josephine finally said, giving the Inquisitor a quizzical look. "You said you were pregnant, yes?" She looked at him like he should tell her she was wrong and that he said something entirely different, but Nylian was quiet, confirming what he'd said with the silence. Eventually, she spoke again, the look still stuck on her face. "But you're a man, men cannot _get_ pregnant."

 

"Yes, well." Nylian shrugged, this conversation one that he'd had many times and one he hated having. Coming out as transgender to anyone was rough - not many people in Thedas understood the concept in the first place, and there were always awkward questions that he didn't like answering. That, and people _tried_ to be polite, and kind, and understanding, and still came off sounding like idiots who lived with their feet in their mouths. "Unfortunately, there was a slight mix-up when I was born, and the Maker accidently gave me a womb. I've been stuck dealing with that mistake my whole life, and now it's catching up to me. So yes, you heard me correctly. I am a man, and I am pregnant, and I need to go to Tevinter."

 

He watched, for a moment, as both Josephine and Cullen worked through the information they'd been given, as it was visible on both their faces. It was, in fact, a lot to process - that the man they'd hailed as their Inquisitor was not actually a man in body, but was still a man all the same - and he let them process it at their own pace. Instead, Nylian turned to Leliana, who was standing off to the side, apparently unfazed by the notion. "I see you're unsurprised."

 

"I've known about your condition since you fell out of the fade, Inquisitor." Leliana smiled, leaning back against the wall. "It is my job to know everyone's secrets, so this news does not come as a surprise to me. Considering the circumstances, it was only a matter of time." She shrugged, and there was something in her words that was unsettling, like she didn't just expect him to get pregnant, but had bet on it. However, asking her that much would probably get little in response, so Nylian ignored the tone. It was probably better if he _didn't_ know.

 

"Who's the... father, then?" Cullen asked, after another moment. He seemed to work through the math in his head quickly - Nylian, male, but carrying the child, which meant the other in the equation had to be male as well, so the _father_ \- before he spoke, and for once, Nylian didn't have to answer the question, as Leliana did it for him.

 

"Why do you think he has to travel to Tevinter?" She asked, and the answer clicked in their heads quickly, Cullen nodding along, a small _oh_ shape to his mouth in realization. Josephine seemed to digest the information and then switch into a face Nylian knew well - her damage control mode was quite legendary at that point, considering the shit the Inquisitor got into that she had to smooth over.

 

"You'll need an escort to Tevinter - I do not expect anyone but Dorian to welcome you with open arms. You'll also need them to escort you home, especially if you plan on staying more than a week or so. It will be quite noticeable by that point, if you stay a while, and I do not expect they'll be any happier once they find out the news." She picked up the book she kept with her during their meetings, making notes. "We'll need to get you healers wherever you plan on having the child, and it would be better to get them early. I do not know if Skyhold is equipped for such a feat, but we can make the attempt here if you wish. You do intend on keeping the child?" She asked. Nylian looked at her for a moment, and then again at his stomach, still flat.

 

"I'm unsure as of now. I was told I have enough time to travel to Tevinter and return before it would be impossible to get rid of it, so I'm taking the time I have. But I need to leave for Tevinter today, as soon as I can." Nylian hummed softly.

 

"We can get you an escort together in an hour." Cullen said, always helpful. "Is there any way you would want us to deal with whatever _rumors_ begin to circle? I have a feeling you won't escape this without someone spreading lies around."

 

"I can keep ears out, to see if this starts to spread outside Skyhold." Leliana said, stepping to the table. "Inside the walls, you can control what is said and what isn't more easily - one it gets out that you, the Inquisitor, are pregnant, it will spread quickly through to the far end of Orlais, and you will not be able to do anything but smile and answer questions and try not to let anyone assassinate you." She crossed her arms. "Your best bet is to limit the amount of communication outside of Skyhold - have mail go through a checkpoint, and any travelers assigned guards to escort them."

 

"That sounds wonderful." Nylian breathed out, this time the sigh of someone who's had a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Leliana, you'll be in charge of containing rumors and making sure no misinformation makes it where it shouldn't. Josephine, I'm putting you in charge of the War Table affairs, and placating anyone that wishes to see me." He nodded, thinking as he spoke.

 

"How should we deal with rumors when they do surface, sir?" Cullen asked, a thinking frown on his face. "Especially those that try and call you a woman for bearing a child. I don't think we should let people off lightly for thinking of you differently. And if the rumors _do_ spread, there must be _something_ we can do to show we're not just sitting on our hands. I could send the troops out, show we still have a force if anyone wants to try something."

 

"If rumors make it to adjacent nobles, I'll leave it to Josephine to handle the ins and outs of that." Nylian said, looking at the map - Skyhold was surrounded by nobles on all sides, and most of them were pleasant and provided goods or services they needed. They couldn't piss them off too much without good reason. "Most should be dealt with well enough by letter, though I don't doubt you may have to march a small unit through one city or another to show we're serious. As for inside Skyhold, I'm not sure. What do you think is a suitable punishment?"

 

Cullen thought for a moment, before a smile crossed his face. "Community service - working in the bar, or the forge, or the stables, something public and physical - but dressed in the usual clothes of the gender they _aren't_. We can encourage Skyhold to use the appropriate designations and pronouns accordingly. It wouldn't be as effective on many of the women, though I also don't imagine they'll have much of a problem with you in the first place, and I know several men who would rather face demons again than wear a dress while mucking stables."

 

"I feel like the women that make a fuss will be the ones most upset to be forced into men's attire." Josephine grinned, liking the idea, and Nylian liked it as well. It was both appropriate, and a punishment, without getting into sentencing anyone too harshly. They'd get to know how Nylian felt, and there was a shared appreciation of the pettiness to it that everyone at the table seemed to enjoy.

 

"If they persist after, I'll deal with them myself on my return." Nylian nodded, feeling satisfied. This went well, if a little off the rails. He looked down, noticing that the stone on his chest was glowing, faintly, and he realized Dorian was trying to contact him. He needed to speak to the other, of course, so the timing was perfect, and he gently excused himself. The advisors didn't seem to mind, Josephine already getting started on assigning the usual War Table duties, interspersed with a running commentary of what Cullen's men would do should they be forced to wear skirts while performing hard labor. Most of it involved swearing profusely and trying to tie the skirts up away from their ankles.

 

Nylian made his way to his quarters before picking up the stone, letting it shine gently at his face. He wasn't sure exactly how it worked, but it seemed to know when he was looking into it, and after a moment he could see Dorian's face through the gem's surface. He was a welcome site, but before Nylian could speak, Dorian's voice rang clear.

 

"Amatus, just who I was hoping to see. Question for you, before we get into things - what would a mage have to do to get you to come to Tevinter for a few days?"


	4. Mountain Sound

 Nylian paused, having not expected the statement, and Dorian watched him through the glass. He looked the same as always, the middle of the gem perfectly clear, the edges a little hazy, and he had an expectant smile on his face, like he was trying to flirt by asking. Dorian wanting _him_ to come to Tevinter was almost too convenient, but Nylian managed a smile - through the pain, of course - and shook his head. "I was actually about to ask you something similar. I didn't exactly want to show up in the area unannounced, but I need to see you." He said, softly. Of course, Nylian wanting to come to Tevinter was a big deal - they'd already discussed why it was probably best he not - and Dorian wanting him to come was just as big, and they seemed to each sense the gravity in the requests and understand they were not asked lightly.

 

"You know you're always welcome here, even if I'm the only one to welcome you - announced or not." Dorian replied, and there was a deep sincerity to his words. "It is odd, that you and I both asked of you the same thing, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth." His smile was infectious, and Nylian didn't feel the need to force his own anymore, which was good. "You would need to leave immediately, I'm afraid, and I understand how hard it is to get away from your duties on such short notice. Though I imagine, if you were planning on coming here anyway, that you've already got such a thing worked out."

 

"I already asked Josephine to take over for a while." Nylian settled onto his bed, feeling safe and comfortable for the first time in several days, the pain ebbing slightly, Dorian's face now close to his own. Just hearing the man's voice seemed to help ease the pain, and he couldn't tell if it was because he loved the mage so much or if his body recognized the father and was doing something from that. He had no way to tell, but honestly, he also didn't care. "Is there some important event you need me there for? Or did you just want to see me as soon as possible?"

 

"Yes, there is a bit of an event. I was hoping to surprise you, but since you asked, I'll be nice." Dorian's smile was sly, and it made Nylian laugh, and that felt wonderful to do. "I'm taking my father's seat in the Magistrium." Dorian said, and he paused a moment to let the weight of that news settle. He didn't let it linger too long, however, starting again quickly before Nylian could speak. "My parents insisted they throw me a party in celebration, of course. It's not for the _entirety_ of Tevinter, thank the Maker, but it will be a decent turnout. It's not every day the biggest social pariah finally accepts a more.... traditional path." Dorian sighed, moving around on his side of the crystal, the image fuzzy for a moment. "I think my parents wanted to use it as an excuse to try and whore me off to someone to marry, so it is _very_ important you make an appearance. And, in honesty, I'd like it if you were there. I don't know if I would want to go through with all of this in the first place if it wasn't for you." His face was open, honest, when the clarity came back, and Nylian gave him a smile.

 

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, you know." His reply seemed to give Dorian more brightness to his face, and to look on either of them in that moment, it would be hard to see them with anyone else. The way they made each other smile so easily was the envy of Skyhold - not that either of them knew that. "It's not every day your boyfriend becomes a Magister. Besides, I'd quite like to see one of these Tevinter Balls for myself." Nylian shifted, sitting up, holding the crystal in his palms in his lap for a moment. The image was small, and while it did it's duty for the past few weeks he was excited at the idea of seeing Dorian in person again. Dorian let the silence settle, and Nylian found it a comfort when it had been a burden before, and he didn't feel the need to break it for a long moment.

 

"You said you needed to see me - was that just a longing you needed scratched, or is there something more important?" Dorian asked, breaking the silence with a soft, loving tone, watching Nylian's face. He was no longer looking at the crystal but out at the balcony, his mind's eye seeing the day Dorian left in perfect clarity there, like a mirage.

 

"I need to speak to you, urgently, about an important matter." Nylian sighed, looking at the crystal again. He couldn't tell Dorian now, no, not right then. He needed to tell him in person. It wouldn't feel right otherwise, too sloppy or unimportant or flippant. Him being pregnant was a bigger deal than Dorian becoming Magister. "I was going to ask if I could come to Tevinter, because I don't think I'm comfortable talking about it without it being in person. You understand." He asked like maybe Dorian wouldn't understand, and there was silence for a moment, a speculative look on Dorian's face.

 

"If you're intending on ending this foray of ours, I would rather you mention it now rather than later, before we're both stuck at the mercy of the nosy elite in a party we can't leave. I wouldn't _blame_ you, of course, but I would rather not have to spend the evening avoiding talking to everyone _and_ avoiding talking to you. There's only so much wine I can drink." He said, and there was a lowness to his voice, a sadness there, and Nylian immediately worked to try and correct the misdeed before he made Dorian sadder.

 

"No, no, I'm not--I'm not ending this." Nylian spoke quickly, bringing the crystal to his face. "Dorian, do you think I would travel to Tevinter only to tell you goodbye? No, I wouldn't, because I don't want to. I want this, and I want to go to your party and I want to dance with you in front of all of those people and I want to see you happy. What I have to tell you shouldn't... I don't know how you'll feel, but it isn't that I want to end this." Nylian watched, Dorian's face a stony mask on the other end.

 

"Is everything all right?" He asked, and Nylian had to take a moment to try and control his face in the same way Dorian could control his. He didn't do that well at it, but he had no gauge to tell.  Was everything alright? Not _really_ , not in the logical sense of things - he was pregnant, with the child of a Tevinter mage, who was becoming a Magister, and while Dorian wanted an heir now that he was becoming a Magister it was more of a risk than it had been before, and Nylian wasn't sure if he would take it. Would he ruin the fact that he was finally in the good social graces of his family and his people with what amounted to a mistake and a terrible quirk of biology that left Nylian on the fringes of being an outcast on his own? Nylian wasn't entirely sure, and it made his gut churn heavily to think about too much.

 

Telling Dorian that wouldn't make this any easier, though.

 

"Yes, everything's fine." Nylian lied, and he could _tell_ Dorian knew he was lying, but there wasn't much for it. Dorian didn't call him on it, at least. Nylian wasn't about to blurt out the news over this device, not right then, not so impersonally. "I just... there's been some developments, and they're important, and I'd like to see you. I miss you, terribly. I was right, you know - this Inquisition is going to fall apart without your pretty face to keep me in line." He tried to joke, change the subject, and Dorian took the change with grace.

 

"Maybe whatever this urgent news is will be enough to bring me back to stay." He purred the statement out, making Nylian giggle, and it was like he never guessed the other was lying. He shook his head, moving around again on the other end, briefly blurry. "If you have people escorting you, you'll want them to stay on the outskirts while you attend the ball. It has taken a lot of string pulling and clout just to get you admitted - letting any of your people in as well could be taken as a sign of war, especially considering you did ally yourself to the Qunari before. I'd rather not have to talk anyone down from war on the night of the party, all things considered. There will be enough drama as is."

 

"That's alright." Nylian sighed, happy to have dodged that conversation. "I should be headed out, before it gets too late to travel."

 

"I'll contact you every day to see how you're doing." Dorian said, and Nylian could tell he was worried, that he knew the other was lying, and there was an odd comfort to that.

 

"I'll look forward to it." Nylian nodded, standing. The connection went dark after that, and Nylian breathed out, the pain racing back into the forefront of his mind now that the distraction was gone. He groaned. Traveling in general was going to be a _bitch_. But it needed to be done.

 

~*~

 

They left only hours later, heading out from Skyhold on horseback. Nylian, in front, armed and dressed in his usual armor and coat, bow on his back, the other men behind. He'd pulled specifically Krem, as well as three other guards - he didn't want to bring Bull or any of his more personal team, as he was afraid of the backlash, and Krem knew his way around Tevinter well enough to know how to stay out of everyone's way. There was a little worry Krem would be hunted as he got back there, but Nylian had them all in Inquisition armor, which branded them essentially untouchable unless they wanted Cullen to dispatch the rest of the troops and declare real war.

 

It would be fine, Nylian thought to himself as they rode out. As long as he managed to get there without dying, they'd be fine. Krem rode close by, understanding - he knew Nylian's condition, both the pregnancy and the rest, as they'd had long, sometimes drunken conversations at length about everything before the pregnancy and the addition was a surprise - but not because he was male. Krem was understanding, at least, and Nylian knew having him there would be worth the risk of going to Tevinter, because Krem could keep a secret well enough.

 

Two weeks was a long time, but Nylian had hope, and Skyhold was in good hands. What was the worst that could happen?


	5. Ma Vhenan

Nylian had regrets about traveling, and most of them involved how sick he was for two weeks. Being pregnant and traveling would have been rough in the first place, but because of his condition, it was definitely harder on him than it should have been. The hormones that his body were producing were new, and made him angry one minute and quiet in his sadness the next, and the emotional roller-coaster was exhausting at best. They rode during the day, and camped at night, stopping to each lunch only briefly, and the system got them there in two weeks, though there was almost constant stopping - sometimes, it was for Nylian, sometimes it was because there were wild dogs, or other predators, but they always got moving again quickly. Nylian found his nausea was worse when riding, and he barely ate, as many things just tasted terrible. He was tired constantly - to the point where some days he would have to have Krem ride along with him so he didn't fall off his hart from falling asleep - and the pain didn't cease. Riding actually seemed to make it worse, but he managed. He pushed through, because he'd been through worse, and there was no choice but to continue on.

 

When they arrived in Tevinter, he put on a brave face as they passed through town after town, but he didn't look well. His eyes were dark, his hands shaky as he gripped the reins, his skin pale. He looked tired, exhausted even, like he was ill, but he kept his head up, riding his own hart without help to the edge of a tall looking cliff. It had a winding, sloping road down to the main gate, and they paused at the top, looking over the city, the sun beginning to set and casting a yellow glow around them. Qarinus was Dorian's home city, and it laid out before them, wrapped in walls and ports and protected against all odds. For a city in Tevinter, it was both impressive and quaint, high gray walls and tan buildings that towered over everything else, but there was something cute to how it looked. A sea breeze drifted in from the nearby ocean, and there was something in that that gave Nylian a renewed life, though he looked tired still, he managed to stretch a smile across his face. Krem took point, riding along in front, the banner of the Inquisition tall in his hands, Nylian behind, flanked by his guards. They looked a proper force, riding down the long road, banner flapping in the breeze, all in bright silver armor and dark blue cloth, white horses flanking Nylian's dark colored hart, the antlers impressive and wide. The guard there only hesitated a moment before he stopped them, like he wasn't entirely sure he _should_ , the eye on the banner watching every move he made.

 

"What is your business in Qarinus?" The guard asked, and the party slowed to a stop, Krem staying on his horse in front. It was a powerful position to be in, towering over the guard from the saddle, and as Krem was relatively short it felt rather nice to be that tall for once. Of course, they figured they'd be stopped, as they _definitely_ looked like they were rolling up to the city to start some shit, but Krem was prepared.

 

"The Inquisitor is here to meet with Magister Dorian of House Pavus." Krem said, and his horse was restless, trotting back and forth a little, and he had to pause to settle it. "He's been requested specifically. We're to see he gets there safely and then we'll depart until he leaves." He dropped the title like it was supposed to be kind of a big deal - most notable people didn't want to fuck with the guy all of Thedas knew saved them from actual hell - but the guard didn't seem to take it as heavily as it was implied.

 

"He's the Inquisitor?" The guard looked skeptical, squinting at Nylian from behind his helmet. It was clear the guard didn't believe Krem, and it was also pretty clear that it was because Nylian was an elf. A Dalish elf, too, not just the complacent city elves they were used to. Nylian's hart made a noise - it always kind of sounded like it was screaming to Nylian - and snorted, almost in protest. "You sure he's the Inquisitor?"

 

"Yes, we're all very sure." Krem tried to keep a face on that didn't scream that he wanted to punch the guard's teeth out, and that was pretty hard. He definitely wanted to punch the guard's teeth out for that commentary.  "And he's been specifically requested. Now can you let us through?"

 

"But he's an _elf_." The guard gave Krem a more skeptical look, only broken by a glance at Nylian that was not necessarily hateful but definitely not kind. "You sure one of those... _savage_ knife-ears is really the guy that saved Thedas?" He whispered the second part of the sentence, like calling Nylian a _savage knife-ear_ would provoke an attack, though he was very bad at whispering.

 

"Do you have a _problem_ with elves?" Nylian addressed the guard specifically, his voice low and unwavering for just that moment, riding his hart forward, and it bayed again, loudly. He'd heard the comment, and _savage_ got his blood rolling, because that's what city elves called the Dalish, and it was not a compliment in any sense. The guard seemed to realize exactly how much shit he was in, but he didn't back down, because he was a _guard_ and that was his job, guarding the gate. And he was still fairly sure Nylian wasn't the Inquisitor. Elves were rarely more than slaves in the city, and even if they were better than slaves they weren't _that_ powerful.

 

He was lucky Dorian arrived at that moment, or Krem might have killed him for his answer.

 

"Amatus!" Dorian called, striding up to the gate in long, gliding strides, the term making the guard pale a little. Nylian slid off his hart - it was the least graceful thing he'd done all day, and all the commanding presence he had before was gone, and by the Maker he looked like death for a moment - and met Dorian at the gate. They hugged, and it was like every terrible awful thing they'd had to deal with over the long two weeks fell away into sweet bliss, and it took a lot of effort for Nylian to let go. "Thank the Maker you made it all the way here without trouble. I hope Ether is treating you and your men well, hm?" Dorian purred, pushing Nylian back to get a look at his face. Nylian tried very hard to make himself look less bad, but Dorian could see on his face that something was wrong.

 

"Ether was just telling him to enjoy his stay, wasn't he?" Krem said, looking at the guard with the face of someone who's doing another a very large favor and who expects kind in return later. Of course, the guard, seeing a Magister embracing the man he definitely didn't think was the Inquisitor, went even more pale in the face, because he was very much definitely not right and he would have been in _massive_ trouble had Krem told on him. He swallowed, look to Krem - who had a shit eating grin that the Iron Bull would have been proud of - and nodded, realizing owing a man of the Inquisition was better than whatever punishment Tevinter would give him.

 

"Yes-yes." Ether nodded, taking Krem's favor and swallowing his racism. The look Dorian shot him - the quirked eyebrow and tight lips of someone who nearly didn't believe what he said and would have killed him had he been lying - was proof enough that whatever Krem had planned was nothing compared.

 

"We'll be back when you're ready to head out, sir." Krem said, trotting forward to take the hart's reigns, and it bayed loudly. "You'll know where we'll be."

 

"Thank you, Krem." Nylian nodded, watching his men trot away, the guard returning back to his post, and when they were gone he turned back to Dorian. The man's face was open, for once, and his hard look had melted now that they had a moment, his hands taking the Inquisitor's and leading him into the city. It was bigger than it looked from the hill, but Dorian seemed to know the layout by heart, and he barely needed to pay attention as he led Nylian by the hands. They were quiet the entire time they walked, Dorian's hands warm and guiding, the silence a comfort. He paused outside a large house, and embraced the Inquisitor again, holding him for a long moment, and Nylian didn't refuse the hug.

 

"There is nothing in this world greater to me than having you in my arms again." He said, softly, pulling away just a little. "But I will need to apologize, as it will be a while before we can have a moment to ourselves. My mother is in a frenzy over the party and I dare say I don't think we'll be able to get a word in edgewise." He sighed, but Nylian didn't care, pulling him back into his arms and holding him there for a long, long moment.

 

"I don't care, this is enough for me now." Nylian said, pressing his face into the crook of Dorian's neck. Dorian smelled the same, but there was something strange to it, like the taste of the sea on the tip of his tongue, and it smelled good. It smelled natural, like it belonged, like Dorian belonged, but honestly at that moment Nylian didn't care whether they'd have a moment alone now or in five hours. He had Dorian in his arms, and he didn't care that the man didn't know he was pregnant, and he didn't care that he felt like hell, he was warm and welcomed and that was all he needed. "As long as we can spend time together later, I don't care." He didn't let go for a long, long time, and Dorian didn't pull away either, and they stood like that in the street, holding each other, not a care of who saw them. "As long as we have some time."

 

"I can promise you that much. It would take a greater force than Corypheus himself to keep me away from spending alone time with you." Dorian said, finally pulling away. He took Nylian's hands, happy, letting it show on his face, pulling him to the door. Inside, his house was full of people, rushing about, talking to each other, planning the party. Nylian could pick out Dorian's mother almost immediately, giving orders - she looked like he did, dark hair and dark skin and the same large eyes, and she was clearly in charge. She immediately honed in on the pair of them, and it was like they were suddenly in a whirlwind, as everything happened all at once.

 

"Ah, I see your guest has arrived." Dorian's mother said, offhandedly, as they were shuffled over to her by the throng of people rushing about, and Nylian could _immediately_ tell she didn't think of him as any more than Dorian's plus-one. It was a little off-putting, but Nylian could ignore that for the moment, still holding Dorian's hand. "We'll need to find him a room to stay in, now that he's here." The way she spoke sounded like she almost expected him to not show, and Dorian made a sour face at her, his smile gone almost immediately. She continued, nearly without a breathe in between. "You brought a change of clothes, correct? I hope so, this isn't the right place for armor, however shiny it may look." She looked at Nylian for the first time, but it was like she wasn't actually seeing him, not really, and she blatantly ignored that he was holding Dorian's hand.

 

"He can stay in my room." Dorian said, his face its usual mask again, and she seemed to ignore him, or at least she didn't care what he had to say. "Unless you want us gallivanting between each other's rooms in the middle of the evening, it might be best."

 

"He can't stay in your room, what would people think?" She tutted, pausing a moment to tell one of the people running around where to put a tray of food. "We can't have the guests seeing you with another man in your room, what will they say? We've worked very hard to make your youthful outbursts not leave a mark on this family, and I won't undo that by having another man share your bedchambers." She shook her head, and of course, Dorian was about to say something else - like the fact that he was _gay_ and he'd always been gay, or that they'd been dating for quite a while, or that his _youthful outbursts_ were anything but - but she didn't let him speak. "You'll be happy to know many of the other Magisters have responded to the invitations, and plenty of them are bringing their daughters. You'll have plenty of ladies hanging off your arm, I bet, and if any of them see you sharing your room with another man they _will_ talk and it won't be pretty." She chuckled, and Dorian seemed to grow a little colder at her words. He opened his mouth to speak, but Nylian spoke first.

 

"You know, we're still dating." Nylian interjected, and Dorian's face was both surprised and utterly adoring, because Nylian was standing up to his mother in ways most others probably wouldn't have. Nylian had to, though, because the interaction made him feel sick, and he couldn't stand for it. He was so overlooked, and she was treating Dorian like his decisions meant nothing - no wonder he wanted to change things. If this was the baseline on how he was treated at home, then the rest of Tevinter must have been as bad if not worse, and things needed to be changed. "You can't just force a woman on him if we're still dating."

 

"Hush dear, you don't know what you're talking about." His mother said, obviously absent, still giving out orders and picking out furnishings between sentences. "Two men together, that's absolutely absurd, even looking at his track record. Dorian needs a wife, because he needs an heir. He's a Magister now, you can't just go around sleeping with _men_ as a Magister, it's not proper. You have an appearance to keep up with now." She looked to Nylian, and for a moment, she actually looked Nylian in the face, like she was finally seeing him. She briefly appraised him, decided him something worth making a small face at - and not the pleasant kind of face, more like he was a foul smell - and turned away from him, like she preferred not to look. "We'll find him a proper wife and it'll all be settled, trust me."

 

"You realize that'll work about as well as anything else you've tried on me." Dorian said, and his voice was low, a mild threat, and she brushed that, too, off like it was nothing. She was a stone wall of a woman, but Nylian was ultimately distracted, because his stomach was churning, and he couldn't deal with it anymore. He excused himself, Dorian's face worried for the briefest of moments, but in the shuffle their hands parted and he was left to deal with his mother while Nylian found a place where he could discreetly be sick.

 

~*~*~

 

They didn't see each other again for a few hours, Nylian spending much of them being shown about the house and trying not to be mistaken for a servant. One young girl took him under her wing, showing him to what would ultimately be his room for the duration, showing him about the various wings, telling him about the plans for the party, and taking the dishes people handed him when they thought him a slave. The ball itself was to be held at a nearby mansion, bigger apparently than the Pavus household, which said a lot about the amount of people that were to be in attendance. It was highly formal, and highly anticipated, and there were plenty of people traveling in for the day to attend. She spent almost an hour on the amount of scandals she expected, telling him stories of previous social mishaps at other functions and expounding on what she expected to happen at that party. Apparently, much to Nylian's dismay, there was a betting pool among the servants on who Dorian would spend the most time with during the party, and most people were betting on a small, fair haired mage apprentice from Minrathos. She was also apparently his mother's favorite for a wife.  Nylian specifically gave the girl twenty gold coins and told her to place a large bet on it being him that Dorian spent the most time with, and she seemed to understand his meaning - the wink he gave her probably helped.

 

All in all, his evening was eventful, if lacking in Dorian's presence. Nylian did keep count, however - he was handed no less than ten different plates or dishes to go put places, and he actively helped as much as he could, though the young girl did much of the work for him.

 

When the night finally grew late, she led him to his room to let him decompress and change into his night clothes, and he was finally alone. The room was well decorated, as was the rest of the house, and somewhat sparse for a guest's space. He didn't mind, stripping down from the armor he'd been wearing all day once he was alone- the Prowler style armor he was wearing was wonderful, but the plate chest piece was heavy, and not well supported considering the rest of his armor was leather and cloth. He hung it on a chair, the rest of his clothes much lighter, and peeled down to his underclothes. There were small bruises forming from the armor, and a few from a slight scuffle they got into, and he pressed one experimentally. As predicted, it hurt.

 

"It seems the road didn't treat you as well as it seemed." Dorian's voice rang clear from the doorway, and Nylian jumped, letting out a small cry, legs scrambling and falling straight onto his ass in the center of the room. He was just in his undershirt and a pair of cotton shorts, hair ruffled, skin red where the clothing or armor was constrictive. Dorian immediately stepped forward to help the Inquisitor to his feet, surprised that he was so caught off guard, and Nylian was careful when he stood.

 

"We got into a bit of a fight with a bear, it's not anything terrible." He said, awkwardly, once he was on his feet. "Sorry, I thought you were someone coming to try and put me back to work." He chuckled, because it was supposed to be funny, like a joke, but the look on Dorian's face said he didn't find either piece of information funny.

 

"They tried to put you to _work_?" He repeated the statement like he'd misheard what was just said, aghast at the way they had apparently treated his boyfriend. He took Nylian by the arms, holding him gently, his hands cold - Nylian's shirt was thin, white, a little stained, and he could feel the subtle change in grip when Dorian spoke, like his emotions leaked through to his hands. "They didn't--- You have no reason to protect them, you know. If they _hurt_ you, I don't _care_ that it's my mother--"

 

"They didn't hurt me, I'm fine." Nylian put his hands on Dorian's arms in a comforting gesture, a soft smile on his face, and Dorian relaxed a little at the words. "One nice _da'len_ led me around, showed me the house, and made sure I didn't work too much. I didn't correct many people, because I want to see their faces tomorrow when I arrive at the party in full uniform and they figure out I wasn't just another servant." He rubbed at Dorian's arms, smiling a bit brighter at the thought of their faces, and Dorian finally relaxed, the tension letting out of his shoulders all at once in a wave, his grip on Nylian's arms loosening slightly. "The question is, are you alright?"

 

"Better, now that I'm away from all that nonsense." Dorian sighed, pulling Nylian to sit with him on the bed, Dorian pressing a hand to his face. "My mother wants my opinion on every small matter, _except_ the one concerning who I marry, of course. The only reason I haven't called the whole thing off by now is because you're here, and as long as we're having a party you can stay here, and I'd fight another dragon if that meant you could stay." Dorian shook his head, like he was getting off some topic they were supposed to be on, and pulled Nylian's hands to his lap. "But that is unimportant. You said you had something to tell me." Dorian looked at him, and there was such concern on his face, such worry, and Nylian paused for a long moment. He wanted to tell Dorian - that's why he was _there_ \- but every time he tried to start it, the phrase died in his throat. It was like he just couldn't get the words to order themselves into a sentence, and they sat there in silence for a moment while he figured it out. Finally, he decided to just come out with it, blatant and bold, because no other words seemed satisfactory.

 

"Dorian, I'm--" He started, but he wasn't to finish it. One of the servants knocked at that exact moment, cutting Nylian off slightly, and Dorian stood like he was about to start swinging, because this was supposed to be _their_ moment and how _dare_ anyone try and take that from him. However, the servant looked afraid _before_ Dorian's show of force, and he paused where he was, because if the servant was afraid to start with, that _probably_ meant his mother was already mad enough for both of them.

 

"Magister Pavus, sir, you're needed downstairs. It's important, your mother says. Well, _yells_." The young servant hovered, and she didn't seem like she was willing to go tell his mother _no_ , and Dorian definitely wasn't planning on giving his mother the satisfaction of a _yes_ , but in the end Nylian decided for them. Having been on the verge of telling his boyfriend he was pregnant and then getting cut off suddenly had his blood pressure racing, and that upset his stomach, and he was off to the washroom, leaving Dorian alone. The mage turned, sighed the heaving sigh of someone who's very done with how the world wants to treat them, and turned back to the servant.

 

"Tell her I'll be down shortly." Dorian said, waving the servant off, before heading to the door of the washroom. Nylian looked miserable, and Dorian's face was almost all pity, leaning bodily against the doorframe like he had the night he'd left. "I'm being _summoned_ , probably for something unimportant, but she won't rest unless I'm bending to her will."

 

"Go, it's alright." Nylian said, waving Dorian off, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He needed to find something to chew on to get the taste out, because his mouth tasted terrible. "I've not had the best trip here - I think I need a little rest and I'll be fine." He forced himself to stand, wobbling a bit, but managing to stay upright on his own, and Dorian had to stop himself from trying to catch the Inquisitor since he wasn't actually falling over. "I can tell you tomorrow at some point, we'll have another moment alone. Go, do whatever it is that needs doing. I'm going to rest - just watching you run around is making _me_ exhausted." Nylian smiled, parroting a line Dorian had fed him once before during the war, and the other grinned at it, the mask on his face back with the grin.

 

"Oh, how the tables have turned." Dorian purred, stepping in to press a kiss to Nylian's lips, brief and chaste. "I'll see you in the morning, amatus. They'll be lucky if they can pry us apart at the party, I'll see to that." He brushed a hand over the Inquisitor's face, and with another chaste kiss, he left, leaving Nylian alone. Alone, in pain, and pregnant.


	6. Rumors and Rustles

The party was meant to be early evening, but prepping for such an event was a thing that took a decent amount of time - even more so for Nylian. There was bathing, and tending to his hair and then the unfortunate nature of his body to conceal. Of course, this meant that dressing took longer for him than most men, especially with the outfit he'd brought with him, and he had no desire to get anyone's assistance and expose his secret to the entirety of the Pavus household. Under armor, he usually made no fuss about binding, as it was more a detriment to his abilities than a help to his appearance, especially now that he'd found a armor set with a breast-plate. However, the uniform he had now had no qualms being tight or restrictive, because it was not made for combat of any sort, so he had to spend a while binding his chest for it.  It was a long and generally unpleasant process, but eventually, he managed to get the bindings secured where he could both breath but his breasts were not prominent. Once done with that, he slipped the pants to his uniform on, stuffing them with a deft and practiced hand - he packed more often than he did anything else - and then went for the jacket, looking at the silhouette in the mirror as he worked.

 

When he began buttoning the red jacket however, he noticed it was tighter than usual around the middle, and he paused. His stomach in the mirror didn't really _look_ much bigger, but there was a fullness to it that he didn't remember from before. It was like he'd gotten a little fat in his stagnation at Skyhold, though when he buttoned his jacket fully, it was hardly noticeable. _Serannas Dirthamen_ , Nylian thought to himself, pressing a hand to his stomach for a moment before moving on to the rest of his outfit. He wouldn't have much more time before he really started to show, and then he'd have to deal with the consequences, so this meeting seemed more like a Now or Never proposition than before. Luckily, the blue sash helped return his figure to its desired shape, and by the time he was coiffed and dressed and ready for the party, it was hard to tell he was pregnant at all. He even looked better, when he looked at himself in the mirror - his eyes were still dark, but his face had a rosiness to it, a warm radiance, and when he smiled he could _feel_ the warmth in his face.

 

He headed to the party proud of himself - he didn't throw up once the entire time he was getting dressed, and he didn't feel nauseated either.

 

The actual event was held at another building, and Nylian sort of followed the throng of people, assuming that the place they were gathering was also the place he needed to go. No one reached out to tell him, or guide him, so he had to make a guess and hope he was right. Luckily, he _was_ right, and he followed other well dressed nobles into the building. It was lavish, strewn in red and black and gold, dark but candle-lit, servants quietly moving between pockets of people in conversation with trays of wine in glasses and small, bite sized foods. There were people in and out of masks, in dresses and waistcoats and all sorts, and Nylian seemed to stand out in his bright red and blue uniform. He picked up a glass of wine offered by the _da'len_ he'd met earlier, and they shared a smile and a short hello before she was drawn back to her duties, leaving him alone again to wander between the hushed conversations.

 

He barely got past the first large group without incident. They didn't really look at him, but extended a tray in his direction, full of empty wine glasses and a bottle with very little in it. He paused, having just had this thing shoved in his face, and shook his head. It was very clear they thought him a servant and not a guest, and this time he wasn't just going to take their shit and deal with it later. "No thank you, I have my own glass." He said, with a smile, pushing back on the tray. The man in question - probably a mage, considering the robes - snapped his head around to look at Nylian, like he was _appalled_ that a servant would refuse to serve him. But he looked the elf over, seeing that he was dressed in finery above the status of the other servants, and he frowned.

 

"I'm _sorry_?" He asked, holding the tray out and not watching as another servant took it away, passing him a new glass. He swirled the wine in it, turning to Nylian and crossing his arms. "Did you just refuse to serve me, _rabbit_? Who do you think you _are_?" He raised a hand, the tips of his fingers glowing with some kind of magic - _definitely_ a mage - like he was about to deliver a just punishment. The others in his conversation, mostly ladies, looked on in passive though interested silence, like this was something that just _happened_ occasionally.

 

"A guest, if you're asking." Nylian grinned a bit broader, taking the mage's hand in a handshake - the unfortunate effect of raising his hand meant it was within shaking distance, and Nylian always found being aggressively polite tended to throw people off - and startling the ladies behind him. "Inquisitor Nylian of Clan Lavellan, Herald of Andraste and Hero of Thedas, pleasure to meet you." Nylian didn't let go of the mages hand, no matter how much he pulled, until he was through with the title, and then the mage manage to rip his hand away. His face had the look of someone who'd just touched someone else's genitals by accident - a mix of disgust and embarrassment. He didn't say anything more to Nylian, turning back to his group, talking in hushed and almost panicked whispers and cutting his eyes back to Nylian every so often. The Inquisitor sighed, wandering off with a weary smile, because at least the whispers he could deal with.

 

He just wasn't prepared for no one knowing he would be there, but he could manage.

 

He found a corner and lingered in it, away from the rest of the party, watching the Tevinter Nobles do as Tevinter Nobles do. It didn't take him long to see why there was so much betting on what scandals would happen - it seemed everyone there had something they were hiding. People secretly holding hands, whispers about affairs, mages using small amounts of magic to woo others - it was like either everyone was trying to hide their actions or be the center of attention and there was no in between. Eventually, between the sparks and hushed conversations, Nylian caught side of a flash of red and heard the soft laugh he'd been listening for, and spotted Dorian through the crowd. He was chatting with another man, smile soft, face that perpetual mask he wore, gesturing slightly about whatever tale he was telling, and he didn't seem to see Nylian. There was a moment when Nylian stood there, frozen, a smile growing on his face, because he'd noticed that Dorian was wearing the same red uniform he was - the uniform of the Inquisition, to be exact - and that made him incredibly happy. To be visibly allied with the Inquisition at a time like that was grand, and even moreso considering the consequences of it. Eventually, Nylian decided to make his way over, having to stop himself from running into the other man's arms.

 

Dorian looked up as he got close, and he got to watch Dorian's face light up in a way he'd rarely ever seen before, a brightness to his smile that Nylian hadn't seen in a long time. He looked at the Inquisitor like he was looking at the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, like the Inquisitor hung the stars in the sky and the moon too, and he immediately broke off conversation to approach Nylian. They both moved to close the distance until they were a step away, and he paused there, a glass of wine in his own hand, the smile still bright on his face. "Inquisitor Lavellan." He purred, almost mockingly, like he knew it was silly to greet him as such, but he was doing it anyway for the show. He stepped in closer, and Nylian ached for a moment to touch him, but knew better - he didn't know how much affection Dorian would be comfortable with in that company, and wanted him to make the first move. Dorian needed to set the boundaries for what was and was not acceptable in Tevinter, not Nylian. "Makers _breath_ , amatus, you look _radiant_ tonight, and I'm not even exaggerating." Dorian added, closing the gap with another step to take Nylian's hands in his own, putting his glass down on a nearby surface. He pressed a kiss to Nylian's knuckles like he was greeting a lady, earning a light chuckle. "Though one of us is going to need to change, unless you _want_ more rumors circling about us."

 

"I like it, actually." Nylian pressed his free hand to Dorian's chest, running it down the red fabric, feeling the cotton and silk and filigree, before shifting it back to Dorian's hip, holding him close. "It makes a statement, and a powerful one at that. Besides, I've watched at _least_ one of the nobles spit out his wine because of it - why should you deprive him the knowledge that he won't be the only one?" He stepped in close, and Dorian grinned, the flirty, wide grin he saved just for the Inquisitor.

 

"Are you sure that wasn't because of your exceptional appearance tonight?" Dorian purred, laughing a little at his own words. "Though, I have to admit, I'm always one for making statements." He shook his head, putting his hands on Nylian's hips in a way that cued the other that there was no such thing as too much personal affection that night. "Mm, I could stand here all night, you know, and bask in your presence, but I believe I owe you a _dance_ , and I intend to deliver."  He didn't let Nylian get a moment to respond - though the Inquisitor wouldn't have said no - taking the other's hand and leading him to a doorway. The house was _huge_ , halls upon halls upon halls, doors to everywhere and nowhere, and Dorian knew his way around quite well, leading them quickly to a ballroom. It was the most packed area of the house, a balcony area full of people watching a raised platform, music drifting around the room softly. They didn't play loudly, as a dance was as much a romantic moment as it was a political move, and dancers needed to be able to speak to each other without shouting.

 

Dorian didn't hesitate, leading Nylian onto the dance floor, and when the next song began, pulled him in for a dance. Nylian was a decent dancer - he didn't spend time in the Winter Palace slacking off between his investigations - and Dorian was as well, and they cut a swath through the rest of the dancers, the others moving off the floor until the two were the only ones left. The other guests watched in shock and barely contained horror as the two men shared a dance meant for romance between a man and a woman, but they said nothing to stop them, because it _was_ the Guest of Honor out there. Nylian didn't care either way, hand in hand with Dorian, a bright smile on his face - he hadn't felt this good in weeks. He wasn't queasy, or in pain, and his face was warm and Dorian's hands were warm and everything felt _good_ and _right_ with the world for the first time in a while. He felt so good, he forgot why he was there, forgot the issues that plagued him, and basked in the moment with Dorian, letting his head rest on Dorian's chest when they danced close, the other's playful smile and bright eyes everything he needed to make him forget his woes.

 

~*~

 

They danced, and they talked with others and drank wine, and for a while they didn't get to breathe between conversations, but Nylian didn't care. He was almost too inundated with others trying to talk to Dorian, ladies trying to woo him and Magisters congratulating him, and he hung off Dorian's arm the entire time. It was almost protective, in some respects, and Dorian didn't seem to mind, getting a little more affectionate whenever another suitor came to try and woo him away. Nylian nursed his one glass of wine while Dorian went through two or three, and they ate the little petit-fours offered them and pressed kisses to each other's lips and cheeks in front of annoyed guests and didn't care about the whispers and the rumors running around between the others. Nylian heard the occasional swear or slur - _knife-ear thief_ , he heard from the mages and ladies, _savage shem-lover_ from the other annoyed servants - but he honestly didn't care, and Dorian didn't seem to either, greeting even the most annoyed and angry of the guests with polite grace and charm. It was when their backs were turned that he'd make some catty comment about their dress, or their words, or their choice of friends, just to make Nylian giggle, and he wasn't always quiet about it.

 

Eventually, they managed to break away from the rest of the party, stepping out onto an outer balcony and finally finding themselves alone for the first time in hours. They laughed as they stepped outside, having just escaped the very racist rant from a fellow Magister about elves, and how Dalish Elves were "uncultured" and "needed to be taken as slaves with the rest of them so the could learn some manners", and they laughed because they'd escaped without him noticing them leave. Dorian leaned on the balcony, elbows resting on the cold railing, Nylian still hanging off of him, and they let the moment linger in silence as their laughter died. The air was cold, the night having fallen while they were inside, the warm hues of the candlelight a stark contrast to the cold tones of the landscape around them. The sea hummed off in the distance, very close, the mansion they were in so close to the sea that the balcony they were on had stairs down to the beach. There was a level of comfort they had together where even the silence felt good, and Nylian didn't feel like breaking it. Dorian, however, stood up from the railing after the moment passed, leaning back against it instead, and spoke.

 

"Now that we have a moment alone, Amatus, would you like to tell me what your urgent message was? Or were you just making a good reason to see me?" Dorian purred, his second comment almost teasing, like he honestly believed that might be the case, sipping at his wine. Nylian looked up at him, and the problems of his life seemed to wash back over him, and his face fell from its smile into a soft frown. He looked down at his wine, starting down the stairs to the beach, the sea welcoming and comforting. When he looked up, Dorian was looking at him with concern, standing at the top of the stairs, his brow furrowed, his grip on his wine glass tight. "So this is it, then, isn't it. You're dying."

 

" _What_?" Nylian asked, spitting out the sip of wine he'd tried to take to hide his emotions in. He took a moment to regain his composure, and Dorian headed down the stairs, heading out onto the beach. Nylian followed, interested in Dorian's reasoning, and the mage had to speak up over the crash of the surf.  

 

"It's as clear as the Breech was in the sky. You looked _terrible_ when you arrived, to the point where you could barely walk, so clearly you've been out of sorts, but you were willing to travel out here all the same - which means whatever it is can't wait. You've also only had one glass of wine this entire evening, which is unlike your usual habits, and you sounded afraid when you first mentioned needing to speak to me - but you're not ending this, and I honestly trust you when you told me that. I can only assume, then,  that you're dying - that your meddling around with the Fade got you the Blight, or something worse - and that you've come to tell me your last goodbyes. It would be fitting, spending a last night like this, on the dance floor one last time." Dorian sounded so _sure_ of himself when he said what he thought was happening, and so honestly _sad_ about it, that Nylian could only laugh, because it was so far from the truth.

 

"Dorian..." Nylian started, cutting himself off with a chuckle. Dorian's face was so _confused_ now that he wasn't proven immediately right that Nylian couldn't contain the chuckles. It was almost _cute_ \- especially because Dorian had rarely been wrong about things like this before. "I'm not _dying_ \- I wouldn't let your mother's running around keep me from telling you if I was _dying_." He shook his head, and Dorian crossed his arms, both relieved but also annoyed at the turn of events.

 

"What is it, then, if you're not dying?" He asked, his tone more frustrated than anything, and Nylian chuckled, bending down to take off his boots and step towards the mage in the sand. It was cold, and he shivered. "You are planning on telling me, yes, or are you going to make me guess?"

 

"I'm not going to make you guess." Nylian said, taking Dorian's hands and unfolding the man's arms. He seemed to deflate a little, now that it seemed everything was alright, though he puffed himself up to look mad all the same. "I will admit, you are right - I haven't been feeling well, and felt terrible when I arrived, and I am drinking less. Your powers of observation are as astute as ever, it's just your conclusion is a little off. I'm not _dying_ , it's actually--it's quite the opposite. I'm--I'm pregnant. I feel like you can assume who the father is." Nylian spit it out, and the words fell out of him like he was sick with them, like he couldn't get them out fast enough once he'd started, and then it was done and he could breathe again.

 

The look of shock that washed over Dorian's face was probably just as comical as his overly puffed up anger, but Nylian couldn't make himself laugh, because he'd finally said it and all the worries came flooding back at once. It was hard to read anything on Dorian's face through the shock for a long moment, and every idea that the Inquisitor had about needing to rush back to Skyhold to get rid of the damn thing came churning back into his gut like he'd eaten rotten fruit. Dorian held Nylian's hands tightly, the shock shifting to concern quickly, and at least concern was a recognizable and decent reaction. " _Makers breath_ , amatus, are you _sure_?" He asked, and he asked like a yes answer would end the world around them, or at least wasn't all that good, and Nylian couldn't tell _why_ , which didn't exactly ease his worries.

 

"Mother Giselle seemed fairly sure, and the longer I've gone, the more sure I am." Nylian said, pressing a hand to his stomach. It was a grounding motion at this point, a reminder of where he was in the process, that it was his body, that it was _real_ , because no matter how hard he thought and imagined he couldn't make it seem any realer than when he felt it, and Dorian placed a hand over Nylian's. That, having Dorian's hand there, was the most right feeling thing the Inquisitor had felt since they'd started the conversation, and he relaxed into it, the worries once again fluttering away.

 

"Amatus, you have my deepest apologies." Dorian said, softly, twining his fingers with Nylian's. "If I had known this could happen, I would have insisted we be more careful. What do you need done to make this right? If you don't want it, I can pull some strings, contact a healer while you're in town, we can have it all settled in a few days with no fuss. It will take some convincing to let my mother let you stay, but I will do _anything_ you need me to." He was serious, immediately willing to sacrifice the child for Nylian's ability to remain uncontested as a man, and that honestly said a lot about Dorian as a person, and Nylian shook his head, pressing a hand to Dorian's face.

 

"I don't know if I want it or not, that's why I came. I wanted to ask you." He said, and Dorian's face shifted, eyes widening, like he didn't expect Nylian to even _consider_ keeping it. Like carrying a child for the man was out of the question, because the consequences would be too great. And giving him the choice seemed even further out of the question, so Dorian was incredibly blind-sided by the idea. "I'm willing to have it, but only if you're willing to help me raise it. I don't want to have a child if you're against the idea, and I don't--I think I like the idea of having a child with you."

 

"You'd be--you'd be willing to have this child." Dorian repeated, softly, the shock back and prominent on his face to the point where he actually had trouble structuring a sentence, which was a first. He clutched at Nylian's hands, like he was afraid that if he let go, the other would vanish, like none of this was real. "Even if doing such could label you no longer a man? Not to mention the havoc it could wreck on your mental state - are you sure you're up for that, amatus?"

 

"I have an army, I'd like to see them try and call me anything less than a man." Nylian purred, an almost wicked smile on his face, and the response brought a smile to Dorian's face as well, bright and happy. "I have to make the decision now, and right now my mental state is fine. If I regret this later, it'll only be until the child is born, and then I'll be done with it all, and that's that. You'll get the heir your parents want for you, too. Isn't that alone worth it?" Nylian asked, and Dorian didn't let him say more, pressing a kiss to his lips, wrapping his strong arms around Nylian's waist. He lifted the Inquisitor by the middle,  holding him up there, a brilliant smile on his face. The Inquisitor hadn't really ever seen Dorian that happy, not since they got together in the first place, and there was a tingle in his chest at the idea that he and he alone did that to Dorian.

 

"I would _gladly_ raise a child with you, Amatus." Dorian purred, leaning up to press another kiss to Nylian's lips, spinning him around and making him laugh. After a moment, he set the Inquisitor on his feet in the sand, still holding him close, grinning for all the world. "Of course, having an heir is wonderful, as it would placate the wrath of my mother, and probably the rest of Tevinter as well, but I do not want to raise this child with you _just_ because of my mother, or because of the impact it would make on the Imperium."

 

"Of course." Nylian let himself lean on Dorian's chest, the anxiety of the moment now gone. They were keeping the child, it was official - so there was no rush to return to Skyhold. He could stay, and enjoy the night as he wanted, and leave when he was comfortable, and there was nothing stopping him from making the most of the next eight months. Even if it did fuck with his sense of self, even if it did make him feel like hell, he could weather it, and then he'd be done with all of it, earning a child for his trouble. Dorian sighed, putting his chin on Nylian's head for a moment, before pulling away and taking the other man's hands.

 

"Come with me." Dorian said, pulling Nylian along. They had to stop to put the Inquisitor's boots on, but then they headed up the stairs and back into the hallway, ignoring every hail and invitation to speak on the way.  He didn't explain where they were going, and Nylian didn't care, basking in the happiness of their decision and the fact that they were holding hands as they walked. They left the hallway and made their way into the main ballroom, where many of the others were done whispering and were loudly passing rumors about the Elf and Dorian, about how he was sullying his name by associating with the other man, how the _knife ear_ was ruining Dorian's chance at being a truly happy man, and other sorts of inane rumors. Dorian ignored them with a steeled face, and Nylian didn't stop to pick a fight, letting the other lead him along. Eventually, he reached the front of the dance floor, where a raised platform held a few seats and was arranged for announcements, and he leaned over, whispering soft words at a servant there, who ran off to go pass along a message. His mother stood there as well, and she looked to her son with concern, and only got a sly smile for her trouble.

 

"Dorian, what in Andraste's name are you doing?" She hissed, her voice quiet, and he only grinned at her for a moment, before leaning in, stage whispering his response.

 

"I'm about to make an announcement. You should prepare yourself, because I daresay you might not like it." He grinned, and she gave him a face only a mother could muster, and Nylian's heart picked up overhearing it. He didn't _like_ being at the center of attention, and Dorian's grip on his hand was tight, so he couldn't exactly flee. He took shelter in the safe space under Dorian's arm, and the mage rubbed his back in comfort, leaning in to whisper to him. "Don't worry, amatus, you'll be alright." He said, his smile stuck in place.

 

The guests gathered, shifting around on the dance floor, and Dorian waited until a servant gave him word that everyone was there. He looked to the crowd - and by Andraste herself it was _huge_ , more people than Nylian realized, filling up the dance floor and the balconies and extending into the area around and even then spreading out from there - and he had such a presence in front of these people already, and he hadn't said a word.

 

"My fellow Magisters, Alti, and esteemed guests, it is _wonderful_ to see you all here tonight." He said, addressing the crowd, and they didn't seem as pleased to see him up there holding an elf as he was to see them. "It really isn't a Tevinter gathering without people like you, of course, but the scandals you all are here to get involved in aren't actually why we're here. This engagement is for me, and my promotion to Magister, and this time it's _my_ turn to get involved in a good scandal." Dorian grinned, and the crowd seemed to balk at his statement, like they were unsure what else he could even _do_ at that point. Many of them seemed unimpressed, like he couldn't show them up, but he didn't take notice. Instead, he stepped away from Nylian, and for a moment, it was like time slowed down. He pulled away, and Nylian watched as he fished around in a hidden pocket, producing a small box.

 

And then he got down on one knee.

 

Nylian pressed his hands to his face before he either passed out from inhaling too quickly or threw up, whichever happened first. The entire crowd shifted, a barely contained rustle of outrage, the seconds like minutes and hours. He opened the box and inside was a ring, old, a green gem and twined snakes, cast in a mix of silver and obsidian, and he held it out to Nylian. The crowd rustled again, and the Inquisitor felt himself start shaking, standing there, staring down at Dorian's face, the amount of adoration there overwhelming, the sly grin still in place.

 

"Inquisitor Nylian Lavellan, Herald of Andraste and Hero of Thedas, it would be my honor if you would marry me."


	7. Love Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long life sucks but expect more expedient updates soonish

There was a moment of silence, where the crowd seemed to hold its breath as one unit, watching Nylian adjust from shock through to adoration, waiting for his answer. It was seconds, barely, but it felt like hours and hours and hours, and when Nylian spoke it was a hushed whisper they couldn't even hear. "You absolute _nug_ ," Nylian hissed, his anger both legitimate and playful at the same time, "you _know_ I don't like publicity."

 

"I did warn you, you know." Dorian grinned, voice quiet, because he was right, he _did_ give the other man fair warning, and ultimately Nylian couldn't contest the statement. He could be a little mad, sure, but he couldn't say he wasn't given fair warning. Dorian cocked his head, a quirk of the brow at Nylian's moment of silence. "Is that a no?"

 

"Alright, _yes_ , I'll marry you." Nylian played off the statement as though it were a chore, to vent his frustration, but the massive grin on his face told the real story - he was _thrilled_ and wouldn't have said no had he been at knife point. This was everything he could have hoped for after his announcement and _then_ some, and of course there was going to be trouble for it, but at this point Nylian welcomed trouble with open arms - as long as it wasn't an archdemon, or darkspawn, or demons. Dorian stood, slipping the ring on Nylian's finger  - it fit, just barely, two bands with two snakes connected by the green stone that seemed to light up on his hand - and they embraced, holding each other there a long moment. They would have kissed, but they both seemed to know exactly how much the crowd could take before someone _actually_ took a swing at them, and both realized kissing would have been a bit much.

 

It took a few seconds for the crowd to realize the answer, and when they managed to put two and two together to make four, they _exploded_. Jeering, shouts, anger, the whole spectrum of unhappy emotions all hit the two at once like a wall of sound - though most of it seemed fairly tame considering what Nylian had heard before, like a required amount of outrage and less like many of them felt _that_ strongly about being outwardly angry. Dorian looked behind him to find his mother had fainted - or pretended to faint, whichever was more convenient at the moment - and was being tended to by some of the servants. Members of the crowd at the front of the platform were the most aggressive, outwardly gesturing with their hands, and after a moment Dorian sighed a long, tired sigh. It was overblown, of course, but it was still real.

 

"Ladies, Gentlemen, yes, _yes_ , that means all of you, could you _please_ quiet down?" He asked, voice loud, but they didn't seem to hear him. Repeating the sigh - it seemed the show was mostly to keep the smile on Nylian's face, because between the sighs he was flashing the Inquisitor sly grins like he _enjoyed_ the amount of ruckus they were causing, and he hadn't let go of the other's man's waist the entire time - he raised a hand, and the candles in the building all flicked off at once.

 

A hush fell fairly quickly after that, the barely contained rustle of fear and rage quieted for a moment.

 

"Thank you, thank you, I know you're all _overjoyed_." Dorian said, over the crowd, and they seemed to stir like they were about to start shouting again, but he spoke too quickly to let them. "Now, I know it is quite an _emotional_ moment, but let's keep our heads, shall we? It isn't every day that a man gets to marry his boyfriend, now is it?" He grinned, and the crowd rustled again, and he had to keep up a little quicker, almost losing them. "If you wish to pay your congratulations to the new Magister and his fiancée, we'll be off by the balcony, you can all figure it out. If you're here to kill me, well, good luck with that - if you're here to kill the Inquisitor, I'd like to honestly see you try. If you want to just _complain_ , there's a patch of wall over there that sort of looks like it has a face, and you'll probably get more of a reaction out of that than you will me. It is probably best for all of us if you all just do the tasteful thing and attempt to assassinate me later and let me have my lovely moment." He grinned, and the crowd stirred again, unsure if he was finished. In that moment of quiet, he took Nylian by the hands and led him off the platform, leading him to the balcony from which they came.

 

They stepped outside for just a moment, the roar turned into a hushed rustle, a soft breeze instead of a hurricane, and it was less loud outside. "Your parents are going to be _furious_." Nylian joked, pressing a kiss to Dorian's lips, all smiles and bright dimples and flushed cheeks.

 

"My mother is. My father, regrettably, passed away several weeks ago." Dorian said, his smile wavering slightly. "I didn't just get the Magister position because they _like_ me, you know. He left everything to me, even after...  Well, everything. I was both utterly distraught, and surprised." He paused, a moment of sadness actually crossing his face, before he controlled it.  "At this point, however, I'm mostly just upset that he didn't get to see this happen." Dorian sighed, pressing his face to the crook of Nylian's neck in a small hug. "He would have had several choice words for me, though he would have also defended our honor on the same breathe." Dorian chuckled, softly.

 

"I'm so sorry." Nylian said, running his hand over Dorian's hair. This was _news_ , which Nylian was surprised he didn't know. "I wish you had told me, I would have been here much sooner."

 

"It has been a terrible whirlwind since he died, I didn't have time or reason to send for you until this party." Dorian hummed out a soft sound, a moment of displeasure in his voice, shaking his head. "Assassinations are always an overly messy business. But let's be done with that talk, shall we? I believe we have some congratulations to accept, amatus." He pressed a chaste kiss to Nylian's lips, a smile back on his face, and they stepped back into the hall. Nylian's heart was just a little heavier as they rejoined the crowd, his smile a little less true and bright, but Dorian seemed to take the moment in stride, all smiles and well wishes as soon as they wandered back into the space. It was odd, seeing the other man so gracious and so happy even after the news, but Nylian realized that was what Dorian did best. Put on a face and move on when the world beat him down. Nylian tried his best to do the same, so no one thought he wasn't happy about the engagement, and after a while the fake smile stopped being so fake.

 

"Congratulations. I see you're busy making a spectacle of yourself." One of the mages said, approaching them and pulling Nylian from his thoughts. This was alright by him, for the moment. He hung off Dorian's arm, wine glass almost empty in his hand. "I thought you'd finally come to your senses." The mage sighed, shaking his head, somewhere between disappointed and affectionate.

 

"I aim to please, as always." Dorian's reply was quick, snappy and on point as per usual, and Nylian quickly settled in to the conversations as they came. No one really wanted to talk to him, and that was fine, as he was very done with the whole socializing aspect of the party. He wasn't ever really in to the popularity of being the Inquisitor - he didn't step up at the Conclave because he liked to talk - so being able to take a step back was nice for a change. He could zone out, catch bits and pieces, hang off Dorian's arm like a affectionate set piece and drink his wine. It seemed Dorian didn't mind it either, casting sidelong glances and bright smiles at Nylian as he talked.

 

Most of the conversations went like the first - congratulations, some quip from the offended party, Dorian's ultimately satisfying rebuttal, acceptance of said rebuttal without much fuss, and then they would move on - and Nylian faded in and out of focus as other people spoke. He heard some of the better quips and conversations, but nothing of real value. Just, " _How are you planning on getting yourself a heir?_ " which Dorian replied with something about using Blood magic, and wasn't that the Tevinter way? And, " _What's next, you're going to tell us he's actually a girl? Pull another fast one on us?_ " to which Nylian bristled a bit and Dorian covered for him very well, and a few other things. Most of them were at least congratulatory, if spoken through clenched teeth, and it was clear they were all some level of mad, even if it was only all for show. Mad that Dorian was outright rejecting their social norms, mad that he was doing it from a position of power that they couldn't do anything about, mad that they were having to congratulate him, and most of all just mad that no matter what they did, they couldn't show him up after that one. They bristled and postured like they could get him to back down, and he brushed them off, and it was clear some would act and some would bitch but what Dorian did worked, for now.

 

Nylian tuned back in again as one straggler came up to speak to them. He looked outright angry, moreso than everyone else, who had at least the decency to fake a smile when they spoke. This one - clearly a mage from the outfit, and clearly higher class - didn't even try and look polite, face all anger and disappointment, and Nylian felt Dorian tense up. This brought him back to full attention, sizing up this mage as he straightened his stance. If Dorian was tense, he had reason to be on guard.  

 

"Magister Pavus." The mage - probably a magister, actually, now that Nylian looked at his robes - gave Dorian a look that was almost... impressed, if a little mad, no smile on his face. "Wonderful show. Good to see something other than apathy on everyone's faces every once in a while." He nodded, and Dorian gave him a look as though to ask his point, face drawn in concern and distrust. The air around them was tense, like no one was sure what would come of this conversation, good or bad. "However, I do hope you will still considering my daughter when it comes time for you to _really_ marry." He suddenly had this smile on his face, this sort of shit-eating, _I saw through your ruse and am calling your game_ sort of smile, arms crossed, and Dorian _laughed_ at the words. His laugh was bitter, a little strange to Nylian's ears, almost _sad_. Pity. It was full of pity.

 

"Are you _serious_?" He asked, and the man's face fell from the smile in a way that clearly said no, he was not in fact kidding, and Dorian laughed again, more honest than before, but still pitying. " _No,_ I am not, and have not, considered your daughter for anything except most underwhelming person in the entire room, and possibly all of Qarnius, and I never will. This isn't some kind of jest or prank, purely done for my amusement, though I can say I am _entirely_ entertained all the same." He shook his head, sipping at his wine again, his smile wide and almost _mocking_. "I am and have been entirely serious in all my endeavors, including this one." He gripped at Nylian's arm a bit tighter, and Nylian mirrored the movement. "I have every intent to marry this man, and, honestly, I'd like to see you try and stop me."

 

"But you can't." It wasn't a question, but a statement, a genuine, solid statement, and the magister didn't seem to realize there was another answer. It was like he thought that not marrying a woman was just the _wrong_ answer, and Dorian would go _Oh, right, sorry_ , and discard the whole charade as soon as he realized he was wrong. The magister only continued when that didn't immediately happen, face _perplexed_ of all things. "You can't just up and marry a man. You need a wife, Magister Pavus - one with good genes, good magic genes, because you need an heir. The only legacy you'll have that matters is having someone to carry on your family name. What would your father have said, to know you were giving all that up? And for what, personal pleasure?" The magister scoffed. "No one here marries for personal pleasure, and you know that. So give this up. There's plenty of waiting girls for you."

 

"You really think that just because he's marrying another man, that he won't have an heir." Nylian stepped up before Dorian could speak, could brush the magister off with a wave and a plithy comment, and Nylian was _mad_. There was a deep, pregnancy hormone fueled _rage_ in his gut, and the wine was making him loose lipped and quick tongued. He spoke like he was ready to start a fist fight, which was a deeper and more serious tone than anyone in the area had heard that night."And that that's all that matters in life, right? Marry a lady, get a good position, have an heir, fuck them up with your same standards, have them repeat the same things you did over and over until you get, what, the perfect mage?" Nylian bristled, and it was Dorian's hand on his arm that kept him from really going off on the Tevinter system, but the words made enough impact on the magister. He seemed suddenly concerned he was about to get punched, concerned because this _elf_ was making threats, and Nylian used that opening to make his next words sting. "You know what his father would have said?" Nylian stepped forward, getting all kinds of too close to the other magister, who managed to hide the flinch in his bones by stepping back himself the Inquisitor only held back by Dorian's arm. "He would have been livid, but he wouldn't have taken your shit either. Because he _cared_ about Dorian, like a parent is _supposed_ to."

 

"So you're telling me, you'll produce an heir?" The magister had a sneer, the kind of self-indulgent, gross sneer only found on the worst of the human race. The kind of sneer that came from people who thought that, by inciting the opposition to ire, they'd won some kind of contest and had the moral high ground. That because he was still being _civil_ , no matter how hurtful his words were, that he _won_.  "Really? With what organs?"

 

"You _watch_ me." Nylian's voice was a growl, a deep, deep threat, two seconds away from tearing the magister's throat open with an arrow, or maybe his hands if he couldn't arm himself fast enough, and it was only Dorian's hand on his arm that pulled him back. He only turned and left to the soft _Amatus_ that was Dorian calling for him, draining his wine as he turned on his heel, radiating the hatred. The other magister seemed pleased with himself, which only made Nylian want the child more - spite was a hefty fuel for a lot of things, apparently having a child included.

 

"Are you alright, amatus?" Dorian asked, quietly, once they were away. "You know you don't have to listen to anyone here. I'm marrying you because I _love_ you, not because I want anything else." Dorian caught Nylian's eyes, uttering the phrase _love_ , which was something the other hadn't heard often coming from the man's lips. Not at least in any serious fashion, not like _that_. He'd expressed the same feelings through other words, and Nylian knew they both felt similarly, but he hadn't _said_ it. Nylian went from murderous rage to deeply heartfelt very quickly, the rage leaving him like draining a lake, making him feel a little empty and exhausted.

 

"I know." Nylian sighed, taking Dorian's hands in his own tightly. He was tired, fuel gone.  "I'm sorry, I just couldn't let that slide. Not when..." He paused. No, not the thing to say. He shook his head and started again, differently. "I didn't want you to have all the fun turning away the dissenters." Nylian forced a smile, nodding along, because ultimately that sounded better and felt better, even if he couldn't manage the smile. "C'mon, let's get another drink, shall we? I think I need one after that." He chuckled, and Dorian smiled, because at least he seemed better. Even a fake smile was better than nothing. The outburst was over, and they were alright, and no one else was going to bother them again.

 

"I think I'll want a drink myself." Dorian said, looking past the Inquisitor. He'd internally spoke too soon. Nylian turned around to see Dorian's mother storming towards them, with the face only an irate mother can make. She was walking with such a brisk pace that Dorian barely managed to grab himself and Nylian wine glasses off a tray before she'd caught their arms and forcibly dragged them out of the hallway and into a different room, much to the hushed whispers of the rest of the party. The new room was empty, quiet, and she slammed the door behind them with such force that a painting on the wall rattled and nearly fell. Nylian was thankful that he could bury himself in his wine glass and not have to talk to her. Dorian wished he could be so lucky. "Ah, Mother, good to see you standing again. Very good job with the faint, even I couldn't tell if you'd faked it or not."

 

"Dorian Pavus, how _could you_?" His mother was _livid_ in a way Nylian hadn't seen the others even come close to, skipping his words entirely to get right to her point. Nylian stepped back behind his lover, because while he was willing to fight a magister for Dorian's honor, he wasn't entirely willing to get between a mother and her son in a fight. Not every time, anyway. "I thought I was finally getting you _back_! You've gotten a position of _real_ power, you're not gallivanting around the countryside with Maker knows who doing Maker knows _what_ to your reputation. I thought maybe I could get you a real wife, get you a real _heir_ , and then we'd forget this-this--" She gestured to Nylian, the indication being that _this_ was his homosexuality, like it could actually be forgotten. "Now you've thrown that all away and for _what_? An _elf_? You could have _had_ something! A _legacy_! An _heir!_ Something to carry your name on, and now you've got _nothing!_ " She was nearly screaming, but it seemed the outburst was wearing her out quickly.

 

"Mother." Dorian sighed, stepping up to his mother in an affectionate sort of way. She was clearly _very_ upset, and his tone was delicate, soft, trying to placate her. It seemed to work, for a moment, and she huffed but stopped screaming, the energy gone from her. "I know this isn't what you pictured when I said I was returning to Tevinter to take my father's seat, but you know, deep in your heart, that you can't have changed me that much. How about this, considering everything that's happened tonight, I can make you a deal that will ease your worries." He caught her eyes, and she looked up at him, her face a stone and stoic mask, the only emotion there being anger. "If I produce an heir, that is biologically _mine_ , will you leave us alone? Let us live in relative peace?"

 

"If you mange an heir, I'll personally fund your wedding, no matter how extravagant you want it." She spat. She wasn't entirely serious, Nylian could tell, but there was something to it. It was clear she didn't expect it to actually happen in any means, but she would give anything to have that not be the case. "Is that something you've planned? An illegitimate heir? A _bastard_ child, Dorian?" She sneered. "Maker, don't let him disgrace us more with a _bastard_ child." She sighed, not entirely to Dorian.  

 

"No, not entirely." Dorian crossed his arms, flashing a smile, the sly cover of his usual facade. "I'll make you a deal, a real and true deal, but you have to agree to it first. I have an heir in the works as we talk, right now. Someone is having my child, likely a very powerful child at that, and I'll make sure the child isn't a bastard for your sake, _and_ tell you who if you'll do me something in return. Nothing so grand as funding the wedding, of course - just acceptance of us. Stop trying to marry me off to the first girl that asks and treat the Inquisitor like he's my husband, really and truly my _husband_. That's all I ask. And you'll get what you want. Fair?" He extended a hand, to shake on the deal, and she hesitated a moment. However, the deal was good - she got the heir he needed, he got the acceptance he wanted. Forced, maybe, but real, as long as she honored the deal. She took his hand and they shook on it, Dorian looking back to Nylian as though to mark him a witness. He had a broad, sly grin on his face.

 

"Now, who's having the child?" His mother said, deal having been accepted. She crossed her arms, like she was ready to reject what she'd just agreed to if it didn't suit her. Dorian chuckled, shooting another look at Nylian, as though to indicate him for something. The Inquisitor, feeling too awkward to really say much, waved softly instead, sipping his wine as an excuse, the motion _his_ indication that it was him.

 

Dorian's mother had to find a chair before she fainted for real this time.

 

"I told you, Mother, I have everything under control." Dorian chuckled, shaking his head as she found a chair. "I'm making sure the child isn't a bastard by marrying the man, and I'll have an heir, and it'll be mine enough to satisfy the Imperium. Besides, a child of the _Herald of Andraste_ and myself? I don't think I could find better genetics for a child in the entire Imperium. Everyone else's genetics look second rate, compared." He grinned, a _I won_ sort of grin, and she looked at him like she'd been _burned_ , like he'd legitimately hurt her, like he'd burned her with real magic.

 

"You didn't---" She looked to Nylian, and the Inquisitor realized _why_ she looked so hurt and frightened. She thought Dorian had used Blood magic on Nylian, to make him bare a child, to make a man into a woman and not the other way around. Nylian chuckled, stepping up and cutting her off before she could scare herself too much.

 

"No, no." He shook his head and waved her off. "He didn't do anything to me, at least in terms of magic use. I just happen to have a, uh. Well." Nylian was starting to get a little intoxicated, and the words weren't coming exactly as he wished they would. It was both more freeing and much harder to come out when he was drunk.  "A womb, and the equipment to match. I've had that since I was a child, I just... never felt like what the Maker gave me was what I was supposed to have." He shrugged. She went from afraid for him to horrified in a moment, almost too fast for Nylian to process.

 

"So you're a woman, masquerading as a man." She squinted. "Dorian, you could have just _said_ she wasn't a man in the first place." His mother went to speak again, and Nylian was the one to cut her off, a almost sarcastic, sassy smile on his face.

 

"I didn't say I was a _woman_." Nylian chuckled, actually putting a hand up to stop her. He was _so done_ with everyone and everything that night, and a little drunk, and he couldn't care about being polite to her if he tried. He couldn't even summon the energy to be _mad,_ so instead he was just lightly pissed, like he was talking to a minor nuisance. He spoke like he was talking to a child, and she didn't seem to appreciate that at all. "You just agreed to treat me like his _husband_. I'd like to know in what part of _husband_ you heard _call him a woman_ , because I might be intoxicated, but I heard no such thing. Husbands are very different than wives, which is a fact I'm fairly sure you're aware of." Nylian crossed his arms, and she went to speak again, and he cut her off _again_ , because he could tell it was driving her mad. "Do remember, all protests aside, we're having this wedding most likely at Skyhold, and you _can_ be uninvited. Or, if it gets bad enough, this _heir_ you want so badly can still be undone. So I would be very careful how you speak to the leader of the Inquisition and the savior of Thedas." The threat left Nylian's lips with a grin, and Dorian's mother was _livid_.

 

"You know, you'd make a decent magister yourself." Dorian was almost _proud_ of Nylian, putting an arm around the other man's back. Nylian basked in that pride, drunkenly enjoying the fact that he felt like he sort of won that conversation, even if most conversations don't exactly have winners. "If only you were a mage." Dorian sighed, dramatically, lamenting the lack of magic blood in Nylian's system, but in a not entirely serious way. "Now, mother, my _fiancée_ and I have plenty of people to deal with, and you know how tiring that can be. Is there anything else you wanted?"

 

"You should be glad I want what's best for you, Dorian." His mother's tone was low, a threat, but an unsubstantiated one. She could do very little, but she could still talk like she had options. "Or I wouldn't be so willing to accept your terms of agreement. You want to have this heir and the rest of your mistakes along with it? Fine. You're lucky that _hussy_ you brought home with you wants to be called a man - your child can't break it's mother's heart if it doesn't have a mother in the first place. It can't earn _that_ quality from you, if nothing else." She seemed upset, but there was nothing she could do. She wanted Dorian to have an heir, not just for him, but for the family legacy, and she was getting it. It would take a lot of getting used to, but she seemed willing enough to do it, if angry about the whole thing. Getting forced into acceptance wasn't anyone's ideal, but it was better than not being accepted at all.

 

Dorian didn't seem to really pay her words mind, taking Nylian by the arm and leading him out into the main room again. The crowd didn't seem to want to bother them anymore, which was alright by Nylian, letting them take time alone together that he so desperately wanted. He stumbled along, clinging to Dorian's arm as they retreated first to the balcony from before, and then down into the sand. Dorian took off his boots, helping the Inquisitor do the same, and they stumbled into the cold sand together, giggling like school kids.

 

"I feel like I should apologize to your mother." Nylian said, standing at the water's edge. Dorian had his arms around the other, standing behind him, face pressed into Nylian's neck.

 

"She doesn't honestly deserve it, at least not at the moment. Think about it again when you're sober." Dorian made a _tsk_ noise with his mouth at the idea of even owing her a small apology, He pressed a kiss to Nylian's neck, unbuttoning the collar of his jacket as he did so. "You'll have plenty of time then to decide. Leave now to _now_." He grinned against Nylian's neck. There was a long pause, hot lips running over cold skin. "Mm, I think we'll remain unbothered out here for a while yet. Her outburst seems to have calmed even the most unruly guests." He pulled himself apart from the Inquisitor, going for his buttons to his jacket with unsteady fingers.

 

"You're not suggesting..." Nylian's tone was somewhere between disbelief and chastising. The last time they did anything drunk, he got pregnant, and he didn't know what worse could happen a second time, but he didn't want to risk it. There were more things involved this time, like getting discovered, and sand, and Nylian wanted to deal with neither of those things. The look Dorian gave him, though, said the thought was probably a miss, because the look was all confused innocence.

 

"What, afraid to go for a little swim in the middle of the night, Inquisitor? Is getting a little cold and wet that much worse that fighting a _darkspawn magister_?" He grinned, and Nylian realized quickly he had in fact completely missed the mark. He laughed, and Dorian seemed to finally pick up on what the other _thought_ he meant, and paled. "What, did you think I would-- oh dear Andraste, _no_ , not out here. I'm perfectly alright wandering back inside with damp trousers, but I'd rather keep the sand from getting too intimate. I'll be scratchy all evening." This statement caused Nylian to laugh harder, so much so that he actively fell over, landing in the sand with a soft _thump_.

 

Ignoring Dorian's following cry - " _Don't laugh, you'd have the same problem!"_ \- he started working on the buttons to his own jacket, pulling that and the accompanying accessories off and tossing them into the sand. Whether he was able to get them back on later was a concern for _later_. He was then only clad then in pants and the wraps around his chest that concealed his breasts, the slight bulge in his stomach more noticeable as he sat. He pushed himself to his feet, and Dorian tossed his own jacket to the ground, stepping in to close the distance between them.

 

"Maybe, if we get you damp enough, they'll let you come to my room to dry off." Dorian said, softly, still grinning from the misunderstanding, pressing a hand to Nylian's stomach experimentally. "And then even my mother can't fuss too much if you just happen to not leave before the morning. To spend the night in the same bed again would make this evening more perfect than I could have dreamed, amatus." He grinned, watching Nylian as he moved for the water's edge. It was _freezing_ , but the Inquisitor wasn't afraid. Dorian shivered at the coldness of it, but the look on his face was excitement. It had been a while since they'd done something as impulsive as swimming in the sea in the middle of the night, and it sent a thrill through both of them.

 

"What are we waiting for, then?" The Inquisitor took Dorian's hand, pulling him several steps deep into the ocean. It lapped around his heels, chilling his feet to the bone. There would be consequences later, but he didn't care. Everything that wasn't that moment could be saved for later.

 


	8. Into the West

Nylian woke up in the same bed as Dorian for the first time in weeks, warm and comfortable and feeling alright, and he honestly just wanted to go back to sleep again and stay there forever. No dealing with family or babies or rumors, just sleep; warm, comfortable, clinging to the other man, listening to him breathe as he slept and knowing this would never end, and that was it. Dorian hummed, just waking up himself, apparently feeling the same thing, the pair comfortable in their early morning silence. They didn't move for a long moment, content to relax there in the sheets and warmth of the morning for a while longer, no matter what time of day it was. Everything else could wait a while.

 

"Uh, ser?" The only thing that really roused them was a servant standing in the doorway. Apparently, she had knocked several times and they hadn't registered that she was there, so she was sort of hovering in the doorway, unsure if she should keep trying or come back later. Whatever it was that she needed to tell them seemed urgent, though. Urgent enough that a grumpy look from the Inquisitor wasn't enough to get her to leave. Nylian eventually sat up, chest unbound, hair a mess, wearing one of Dorian's shirts and nothing else in particular, and the servant girl flushed a little red. She wasn't prepared to see either in their bedclothes, but she spoke quickly, because the Inquisitor's face was about three seconds away from murder. "Message, from your mother, Dorian ser. She said it's important."

 

"Can we just pretend I _don't_ have a message from my mother instead?" Dorian asked, finally sitting up. He was wearing slightly less clothing, and his hair somehow managed to look relatively the same, even with bed head. Nylian was almost jealous, but also almost _proud_. There was silence that Dorian took as a _no_ , and sighed. "Alright, fine. What is the message?"

 

"Uh, your mother insists that the Inquisitor return to Skyhold as soon as he is able to travel." The servant was hesitant, nervous about the statement, like she knew she was asking things no one wanted, and continued quickly. It was a good choice, because Nylian could _feel_ Dorian bristle beside him without looking. "She said, as per tradition, uh, he shouldn't be seen until the wedding. She figures you're the-the groom, of course, which means, he's, well-- You're s-supposed to not see the, uh, well, the _bride_ , before..." The servant trailed off, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. She knew _bride_ wasn't right, but there wasn't any other way to deliver the message, so it wasn't entirely her fault. Dorian's ire seemed to ebb a little, and he stood up - the servant thanked the Maker that he was still wearing _pants_ of all things -  stalking over to the doorway.

 

"Tell my mother that it is going to take the Inquisitor a long while before he is able to travel, considering the long journey he went through so recently. He'll leave when he's ready to leave." Dorian's words were quick, emphatic, and somewhere between very tired, not just in the physical sense, and a threat. The servant nodded, realizing that the threat was not directed specifically at her and if she stayed it would be, and ran off. Dorian put a hand on his face and closed the door, locking it this time, before stumbling back to the bed. "It's far too early for my mother's shenanigans."

 

"Mm." Nylian hummed, pulling Dorian back down beside him. "I _should_ honestly return to Skyhold soon. However much that I trust Josephine to have everything under control, I do also note that Cullen was a little antsy to give the troops something to do, and when Leliana inevitably hears about last night's _surprise_ , I don't want them getting any ideas before I get back." He chuckled, already seeing them in his head - Josephine running around trying to both dictate peace efforts and plan a wedding without him, Leliana secretly undermining other nobles as they find out and get miffed about it with almost _too_ much joy on her face, Cullen using the excuse to finish cleaning up Skyhold, much to the distaste of the troops, who would rather stab things than mop.

 

"I wish I could just go with you." Dorian sighed, pressing his head to Nylian's neck as he curled around the other. "But I know the Imperium isn't going to take _getting married at some point_ as a decent excuse to just up and leave. Besides, the resistance will flounder if I just vanish without proper word." He sighed, clearly now just tired, tired of all the work this was. "This politicians business is going to be the death of me, I swear it."

 

"At least there's no darkspawn Magister we're having to worry about." Nylian joked. "Falling into the Fade randomly, Wardens turning on us, _spiders_. I'd rather deal with nobles any day, and I hate the publicity." He smiled, softly.

 

"Yes, that is true." Dorian grinned, conceding to Nylian's point. "Though, at the same time, I'd honestly prefer you to fall into the Fade again. It would give me a very decent excuse to go running off to Skyhold and not come back for a time. Oh, _yes_ , sorry about this, but my fiancée sort of went and vanished into the Fade again, you know, he does that, but I'm a bit worried he's not going to come back this time, so you'll just need to put things on hold for a bit while I go investigate. Hopefully, he'll be fine, but I have to go and see, you know." He chuckled. "If only I could be so sure."

 

"I've gone through worse things before." Nylian shrugged. "Another jaunt into the Fade won't be that bad. As long as I've got a bow with me, anyway. If not, I'll just... improvise. Stab a spider with another spider, or something like it. There's rocks in the Fade, right? I could smash them with rocks. It works on regularly sized spiders, so as long as I find overly large rocks it should work."

 

"You're lucky you saw them as spiders, amatus." Dorian sighed, shaking his head. "In all honesty, please _don't_ fall into the Fade again. When we were there the first time,  and I didn't see you follow me, I..." He paused, shaking his head against the pillow. "I was sure you were dead. I thought, _this bastard is destined to break my heart in the worst way possible_."  

 

"Alright, I will try my best not to fall into the Fade again." Nylian chuckled. He sat up again,  and Dorian made an annoyed noise at the fact that he was gone, throwing a dramatic arm over the empty space so the thump against the bed could be heard. "C'mon, I'm awake now, and we can't just laze around in bed all day." He turned to drag Dorian out of bed, half heartedly taking the other by the foot and pulling. Dorian made the same annoyed noise, but it ended with a chuckle, and he sat up.

 

"Who says we can't?" Dorian grinned, standing all the same. "We could call the servants for food and not leave this bed for hours if we really wanted." He stretched. "We could just live in that bed. Forego the marriage entirely, just move in together, call that bed our new home."

 

"I don't think it works like that." Nylian laughed. He liked being around Dorian in person - he laughed more, and more genuinely, than usual. His face was almost always split in a smile. "But that may just be an issue in Orlais. Either way, we're both awake, and we might as well make the most of the day. I'd like it if you showed me around a little, actually. It's been a while since I've been this close to the coast, and while our midnight swim was fantastic, I'd like to walk with you sober, and during the day."

 

"You'll stay until evening, then?" Dorian asked, rooting around for his shirt from the night before. He realized, after a moment, that Nylian was wearing it, and crossing his arms with a chuckle. Right. He paused a minute, like he was trying to decide whether he should get the shirt back or just find a new one, and eventually decided on the latter, heading for his closet."Do you plan to travel in the dark, then? Or were you thinking you'd leave in the morning?"

 

"Honestly, I don't particularly feel up to traveling, I think, for several days yet." Nylian stood, padding over to Dorian with a small smile, batting his lashes dramatically. It wasn't _entirely_ a lie - the journey in was rough on his body, and he'd only just started really feeling alright. Having a few days to bask in that, and in Dorian's presence, would have been ideal even if he wasn't getting told to leave. "Being pregnant and all, the journey here was quite hard on me, and I'd like several days to rest before I try it again. Unless, of course, I want to lose the child, or something calamitous as that. I'll think of something when your mother comes asking, I'm sure." He grinned, and Dorian gave him a look that was both _proud_ and _incredulous_.

 

"You know, there's a reason I adore you." He said, bending down to pick the Inquisitor up by the middle and spin him around. Nylian laughed, hands braced on Dorian's shoulders. "It may not be a long time, but even a few days with you will be worth every terrible moment my mother will put us through with this wedding." He paused, carrying Nylian back to the bed, much to the Inquisitor's half hearted protests. "However, for now, considering you'll be here several days, I think---" He gently tossed the Inquisitor to the bed, "---we can take a _little_ longer in bed, don't you?"

 

Nylian laughed as Dorian crawled up to join him, pressing kisses to his neck and collar as he did so. This was going to be a wonderful few days.

 

~*~

 

He had kept Skyhold updated as best he could, which was difficult with the distance, but they managed. They were alright without him for a little longer, Leliana said. Josephine was doing a wonderful job in his absence, and she jokingly warned he should come back before she took over permanently. He spent several days in Qarnius, taking it easy, but eventually even he couldn't put off leaving another day. He'd walked the beaches, he'd seen the city, they'd even spent an entire day in bed for the sake of it, and there was nothing left to do and Dorian's mother was growing more and more irritated with every passing day. He couldn't play the charade forever, and it seemed like it was better to go before she exploded in rage at them and not after. Dorian was, of course, sad to see him go, but they would reunite soon, and Nylian promised that they would talk every day he was traveling. It was the least he could offer, but it was still hard leaving Dorian behind.

 

Krem seemed happy enough to leave, of course, which added some joy to the departure, if nothing else. He was at the gate with the hart and the rest of the troops as Nylian left, a smile on his face and a wink at the guard, who was the same one he'd threatened before. The guard paled a little, keeping his eyes away from Krem, which suited the man just fine. Nylian said his goodbyes to the servants, again in his armor, ready for travel, the belt now almost too tight. This would probably be the last time he'd wear this armor out until this was all over, he thought, walking to the gate with Dorian - his stomach was beginning to bulge just enough where the armor no longer really fit him, and soon he would have to forgo it all together. He sighed, giving Dorian a kiss in goodbye - after his stunt at the party, whether or not they held hands or kissed in public seemed relatively moot - and readied himself for the journey home.

 

He left Qarnius a little heavier than he arrived - in more ways than one.

 

"You know," Krem said, softly, as they headed up the sloped hill and started away from the city. They rode next to each other, the troops hanging behind, having their own light conversation. They seemed at ease, and ready to be home as well, and the atmosphere was light, if a little sad. "I wasn't the biggest fan of being part of your escort out here, considering," He gestured to the surrounding area as _out here_ , indicating Tevinter at large and his association with it, "but seeing the two of you together just now had me thinking that maybe this was worth it." He smiled. That warmed Nylian a bit to hear - that even someone who was risking a lot to come out here thought the visit was worth it.

 

"With luck, the next time I see Dorian, he'll have come to Skyhold instead." Nylian chuckled, the hart needing very little instruction or prodding these days, leaving him time to just sit and talk and think. "It's good to know someone else gets a little hope out of all of this. I wouldn't have been surprised if I was the only one, but..." He sort of trailed off, casting a glance back at the city, like maybe he should just stay and take one for the team against Dorian's mother. Leaving was always the hardest part.

 

"Be glad you jumped on him when you did." Krem added, with a wider grin, trying to change the subject off the sadder things. He leaned in a little, his horse making a soft noise of protest at having to get so close to the other mount. "If you hadn't gotten to him first, I'm pretty sure the Chief was going to try and take him for himself, if you know what I mean." He winked, and Nylian's face went pink at the idea that if he hadn't started dating Dorian, the Iron Bull would have tried in his stead. It was a weird thought - but not something Nylian _disapproved_ of. "Kind of glad he didn't - we'd probably be out here more often than this, and a lot less welcomed."

 

"The one thing less welcomed in Tevinter than a Dalish Elf who has decent status." Nylian chuckled, trying to hide the redness in his face by making a joke. It didn't work, because it seemed Krem saw through to his real thoughts pretty easily, and he laughed a little himself at what he noticed. "Let's just focus on getting back to Skyhold in one piece, shall we?" Nylian tried to divert the conversation entirely, tapping his hart with his heels to make it pick up the pace. Krem laughed, a bit louder, but didn't try and continue the conversation, only turning to the men behind them to tell them to keep up.

 

~*~

 

Skyhold was two weeks of travel away, though most of it was through open land. This was good, as the riding was less hard through open land and rolling hills, and now that Nylian wasn't constantly sick, they rode faster and easier than before. However, the season was getting late, and snow was starting to collect in the lowlands, so the last leg of travel was more difficult. Any time they made up in the plains they lost as they hit the mountains. The climbing was arduous, and the terrain was much more difficult than before. The mountains were buried in several feet of snow, moreso than normal, and even on horseback they found it difficult.

 

They managed to get deep into the mountains before the really encountered any problems. It was slow going, trudging through deep snow, pulling the horses along behind them as they walked. It had snowed significantly the evening before, the troops waking up to their tents covered in inches of snow and ice. Everything was still and silent as they crunched, and they barely spoke, because they knew the dangers of it. They were at the foot of one of the largest peaks, and with fresh snow, even the smallest sounds could trigger something terrible.

 

Nylian looked up at the peaks, remembering the last time he was in these mountains. He'd never forget the sinking sensation in his gut as the tops started to churn and fall around him, the dragon's hum and roar as it left, the cold breeze rushing down to him. He shivered, eyes locked on the gray sky, and ran into Krem, who had stopped. They both toppled into the snow, the wet and cold seeping into the cloth of their armor, and the entire group stopped. "What happened?" Nylian asked, softly, as Krem helped him to his feet. Standing on his own from the snow was too difficult.

 

"Thought I heard something." Krem muttered, voice soft. He pulled the Inquisitor close as he stood, whispering at the man so the rest of the troops didn't hear. "Didn't want to alarm the others, but I think we're being followed." He gave Nylian a look that was both professional and concerned, but willing to deal with the consequences himself. Bull would have been proud. "Kept an eye out for the past few days. I keep hearing noises behind us, and it's not wolves. It's too loud for any wolf." He nodded to behind them, where their tracks disappeared into the trees. There was silence for a long moment, not just the silence of snow but the dead silence right before something happens; the tense, irritating, tickling silence of holding one's breath but not knowing why.

 

"Why're we stopped?" One of the troops broke the hush, his voice loud against the backdrop of silence even though he was speaking fairly quietly, and it was like he was the cue for everything to go wrong. Behind them, there was a shout, a language the Inquisitor didn't understand, and then a loud _bang_ , a spark of light shooting high into the air like a firework, bright green against the gray sky. It fizzled out after a moment, but then there was another one, slightly less loud, from the top of the mountain, like an answer, a response or confirmation. Nylian bristled, felt like all the hairs on the back of his neck went up at once, like a cat raising their hackles, and Krem grabbed his arm tightly, seemingly feeling the same sudden drowning terror that washed over him. _They had been set up_.

 

" _Move!_ " Nylian was suddenly in command, trying to run through the knee deep snow, Krem pushing ahead. Their horses seemed to take heed first, his cry and the bangs having startled them, picking up into a gallop without prompting, leaving them all behind in the mess. It was only seconds between all of these things; seconds before there was another series of explosions, and Nylian looked up even as he tried to run, to see puffs of snow and fire across the top of the mountain, the block of white that was snow below them starting to separate and crumble. " _Fenedhis lasa_!" Nylian swore, tripping over his own feet in the snow. Krem came back for him, helping him up, holding onto his arm tightly as they ran, the troops falling behind as they tried to run.

 

The sinking feeling was back as the mountain loomed closer and closer with every breath.

 

It felt like it all happened in slow motion. They were running, but the snow was making them fall back, behind, slow down to a crawl. It was too deep, and they couldn't make any kind of progress, not really. The mountain rolled and moved and tumbled, roaring, trees cracking and tearing as it moved past, picking up debris and carrying them along. Nylian looked back to his troops, watching the fall behind, struggle with each other, help each other to their feet, and then watched them all fall, one by one, swallowed by thick, white, moving earth, and then it hit them, hard like getting caught in a stampede and everything went dark.

 

Everything was still fairly dark when he came to. He was cold, _freezing_ , fingers and toes numb, body shaking, and as his vision came back in he realized he was buried under a layer of snow. It was packed around his body, but there was some wiggle room around his arms where they had been loosely pinned to his sides. No fancy, convenient mine shaft for him this time, just suffocating, terrible snow, the weight of which made breathing hard. He could hear movement next to him, shuffling and scraping, and after a moment, a hand broke through the snow next to him. It's was Krem's hand, and it pushed the snow around, digging out a space between them. They were lucky, as the snow had yet to really pack down near them, and could be moved. His face was pink and red, blood frozen to his forehead and lips, which were purple and blue at the edges. He huffed, and Nylian found the strength to try and help, to pack the snow up above him so he could move and shift and roll over, but only with his right hand, as his left hurt too much to lose. It wasn't a lot, but it helped. "Thank the Maker you're alive." Krem said, chuckling weakly. "Didn't want to get trapped down here by myself."

 

"Is anyone else...?" Nylian asked, softly, trying hard to expand the gap in between them. Krem had his bracer in his hand and was using it to dig through the snow, the metal barely making a dent as he dug. They only managed to get a small gap near their faces, another small gap where Krem's arm had been before. He paused, shivered for a moment, clearly cold, but kept going all the same.

 

"I don't know." Krem was focused, digging out the space in between them, packing the snow up so they had a little breathing room. "I managed to hang onto your arm when the avalanche caught you, grabbed a tree with my other hand and slowed us down a bit. The others vanished in the snow, and I don't know how far we went, but we're not that deep." Krem huffed a bit, slowing down in his packing. He was clearly getting tired. "Deep enough, though. I don't know if we'll be able to dig ourselves out."

 

"We'll think of something." Nylian said, encouraging, even if he didn't mean it. He didn't know if they could think of something - they were buried deep in snow that was packing in as they spoke. As it packed, it packed hard and thick, and Nylian knew from his Keeper in his clan that packed snow settled hard enough to blunt knives and break shovels. Buried that deep and under snow that thick, they had limited air, and limited warmth, and if one didn't kill them another would, and in very limited time. Their best chance would be if someone dug them out, but that was a risk they couldn't afford to wait for. They had several more days before they were expected in Skyhold, and they'd have several more before anyone could get to them. They'd be dead by then. They'd be dead fairly quickly, actually.

 

He exhaled, feeling the cold seeping into his limbs as Krem finally stopped digging, too tired to continue at that point. They settled into silence for a moment, realizing together that this was probably it. There was a high likelihood that they would just outright die there, buried under snow, frozen and blue. "You know," Krem said, his voice already softer. He was breathing softly, weakly, the armor and binding probably making it harder to inhale deeply. "I never expected I'd die like this. Figured it would be some weird Qunari thing. Saving the Chief's ass from his own people, or something like it. Kinda hoped it would be, actually. Finally pay him back for what he did for me."

 

"I'm not giving up on either of us." Nylian shook his head, taking stock of his abilities. "You may yet get to save Bull from his own people. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's the impossible." He chuckled, and Krem chuckled, and that was good. Laughing was good, because laughing was hope. He leaned back, thinking, taking stock of where he hurt, where he didn't, what was and was not too cold to feel. Legs, cold, couldn't tell if they were injured, but ultimately useless right now. Feet, _very_ cold, numb even. Right arm seemed bad, something pulled and pained when he moved it. Hands... one was too cold to feel, but the other....

 

He lifted his left hand, the anchor a vibrant green under his glove. It still hummed its usual aching pain, the dull pinpricks it had always hummed, even as his fingers ached with cold. He could still _feel_  it, so maybe he could use it. It was a risk, but he was willing to take it at this point, because there was nothing else to do. It was either try it, or die. So he went for it. He pressed the mark into the snow, reaching out to grab Krem's hand, pain or no pain, so he wouldn't leave the other man behind, and focused as much as he could. _Think_. He told himself. _Into the Fade. Away from here. Ripping, like tearing fabric, pulling, c'mon_.... He focused, and his hand _burned_ hot like fire, and he could feel Krem tense and pull away like he was afraid.

 

"Inquisitor...." Krem murmured, tense like he was afraid, tone rising as he spoke like he was about to scream, but there was no time for anything else. With a crack and a hiss, they were suddenly falling, falling quickly, the cold around them rushing away as it too fell, and then with a thump, they were on the ground. It was a soft thump, like they hadn't fallen far, but a thump all the same. Nylian groaned, pain racing up his back, pain rushing into his cold limbs as they started to warm, the burning sensation of blood rushing back too much. He rolled over, good hand on his stomach, still bulging, and saw Krem laying by him. The other man sat up, still in armor, more blood on his face. Frost still clung to the plate metal, but the blood began to trickle down his head in a low roll. Neither of them were doing good. "Is this..." He asked, looking around. The sky was a roiling black and green, high towers of black mountains stretching up to touch the clouds, green swirls of fog and water.

 

"The Fade." Nylian pushed himself to his knees, and then his feet, and then fell right back to his knees. His ankle burned hotter than the warming of his hands, and he realized quickly it was probably broken. _Fuck_. This was the worst injury to have in the Fade. That, and it seemed his right arm was fucked as well, pain racing up it when he moved, all too much. "I, uh, figured it was either this or freezing to death." He chuckled. He wasn't sure where they were - it all looked both the same and different all at once. Krem stood, wobbly but stand upright, arm useless against his chest.

 

"I'm alright with not freezing to death." Krem said, looking around in awe. There was a clear path ahead of them, stairs and rocks and all that stretching out in front of them, and in the distance, a wavering, shimmering mirage. It was like heat coming off a surface on a hot day, a shimmering view of the mountains, a thinness in the veil. A way out, maybe. What was it Solas had told him? The Fade is shaped by emotion and intent...? "So do we... do we walk?"

 

"Walk, and try not to get eaten by spiders." Nylian said, heading for the thin spot. He moved at a very slow pace, and Krem stepped in to let him balance, help him walk. "If there are even spiders. Or if you even see them as spiders. I was in a different place the last time we were in here. The lair of a Fear Demon. The things it sent after us were things we feared. There were spiders."

 

"I'll, uh. Keep my eye out." Krem glanced around, unsure if he should be looking out for spiders out here and looking a little weirded out by the idea. Not necessarily afraid, just concerned, as one rightfully would be after having been told about overly large spiders.  There was silence for a moment, and then he spoke again. "Large spiders?" He asked. He still has a sword, and he reached for it. Nylian was unarmed, but picked up a rock. Not large enough, but it would have to do.

 

"Relatively." Nylian chuckled. The Fade gurgled at him. "I wouldn't worry about it. We'll be fine." He nodded, looking to the image ahead of him. Hopefully, it was a real weakness, and they could get out when they reached it, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't be sure of anything with the Fade, not really. Not if they'd get out, or get eaten by spiders, or meet a demon, or a spirit, or anything. He sighed, though, because he was sure of one thing, and one thing only:

 

Dorian was going to kill him.


	9. The Death of Me

 

There was no sense of time passing in the Fade. It was a oddly unique experience - there was no sun, or moon, just shifting, constant clouds, so there was no indication of time passing. There was no tide in the lakes and rivers, either, so it was impossible to tell how long they'd been there by environment alone. They'd been attacked fairly regularly, so they were aware time was, in fact, passing, but not by how much. Even still, Nylian could tell they'd been walking for a long time - the pain in his ankle ebbed and flowed as though with the hours, and he experienced minor exhaustion after bouts of walking - but not for _how_ long. They had no desire to eat, nor obligation to oblige some gnawing hunger or thirst, and no need to sleep. There was exhaustion, yes, but cured after a few moments rest, and that was it. They could have been at the walk for a day, or a week, or a year, and it would have been hard to tell.

 

They'd paused, briefly - the thinness of the veil seemed to be getting closer, as far as they could tell, which was good enough, and there was always some kind of path to it, even if it was filled with angry spirits and demons - to rest and try and recoup. They'd discovered Nylian's arm was dislocated at their last rest, after he'd hurt it more trying to smash a spider with a rock, but having been feeling alright, he had wanted to press on and deal with it at a later time. Now, of course, it was the later time, and Krem wasn't going to let him just ignore a dislocated shoulder any longer.

 

"Three." Krem counted. He had the Inquisitor's arm in his hands, one elbow braced on his shoulder gently, the other holding the Inquisitor's wrist, intending on pushing the joint back into place. It wouldn't be _healed_ , but at least better, no longer able to hurt itself further by moving. He had taken off his undershirt and had ripped the thing into pieces to make them slings, as his own shoulder hurt enough to need to keep it still more often than not.

 

"If you think this'll hurt your arm, you don't have to do it." Nylian said. He didn't exactly _want_ to do this - he knew he needed to fix it, yes, but it would _hurt_ , and he wasn't mentally prepared for that. His ankle was already in a lot of pain, and they'd worn themselves out with a small fight against a rage demon. Krem didn't even seem to react to his phrasing, still counting.

 

"Two." He said, Nylian paled a little, unsure. He had been through pain before, a lot of pain before, but the anticipation of the pain was killing him more than the pain itself.

 

"Maybe we should consider something els--" He started asking, but he was cut off in his sentence with a cry. Krem, having commanded a troop of people that were both good warriors and could also be big babies about minor injuries, didn't act after One like someone would assume. Nylian thought that he would count to one and then pop it in, letting him have ample warning before the pain really hit, but Krem had learned surprise tended to lessen the pain. He pressed down hard when he was _supposed_ to say One, rather than after, popping the joint back into place and making the Inquisitor cry out loudly. But the pain was gone in a flash, and it hurt much less once it was in place, and Krem helped him put it in a sling before returning his own arm to the sling they'd made for him.

 

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Krem asked, as he helped put the arm in the sling. His face was the kind of grin Bull would have been proud to see, the sort of sassy, fatherly thing Nylian would see on Bull sometimes, mostly when he was being a loving, caring ass. The Inquisitor chuckled, shaking his head and hopping to his feet, Krem taking his usual space under the other's arm. It was hard to move with two bad arms and one bad foot, but they'd managed, somehow. It was good they didn't need to eat - there was nothing to hunt out in the Fade, and they couldn't have hunted even if they wanted to.

 

"You could have gotten to one, you know." The Inquisitor said, softly, both a reprimand and a show of his displeasure at being tricked, as they started moving again. It was clear he ultimately didn't _mind_ , but he needed to show off that he was mad about it all the same. There were less stairs ahead of them, which he realized may have been some of his intent shaping what was around them - they couldn't really walk up stairs if they wanted to - and that was alright by him. It meant they weren't quite as slow going. "You do that for the Chargers?"

 

"Yeah, Stitches doesn't always like setting bones for them. He thinks it'll make him the _bad guy_ , if that's all he ever did. He worries too much, but we humor him. So we trade off who gets to put arms back into place, usually. He won't touch Bull, though." Krem chuckled as they walked, looking up to their destination, focused on moving while he talked. "I think he's afraid the Chief will sock him for it. That's where I learned that trick - Bull likes not having any warning, and the rest of the Chargers picked up on the appreciation of it pretty quick. I think he hates the anticipation of waiting for the countdown. Gets his blood running too fast for nothing, 'cause usually we're done swinging at things by the time he's fixed." He shrugged, under the Inquisitor's arm. "Either way, your arm should be better for now. You'll probably want a real healer to look at it if we get back."

 

" _When_ , Krem." Nylian said, nudging the other softly. " _When_ we get back. We're not just going to give up out here." He nudged Krem again, almost jokingly, and Krem gave him a smile. "We'll get out, and then we'll get back, and it'll be fine."

 

He hoped it would be fine.

 

~*~

 

Dorian could barely read the letter, his hands were shaking so hard, the pages rattling between his fingers. Hot white panic was racing up and down his chest, catching his breath, making him rattle. He had received the letter in his own quarters fairly early that morning, which was odd, because people didn't just send letters to his window. There was a mail system - but this came to his window on the foot of a small bird, who was insistent he take it. He did, the feeling of something wrong already building in his gut, because wasn't this one of Leliana's crows, and why would she be sending him a letter so early in the day? He wasted no time in tearing it open, and he just about managed to get through the first sentence before he needed to sit down, because otherwise he would have fallen. Now all he could do was read that first sentence over again, because his mind refused to process it, refused to give him context to move on, not until the panic was bubbling over in his chest. The letter _was_ , in fact, from Leliana, delivered by private bird as quick as it could go, because the message was incredibly important, and Dorian of all people needed to read it.

 

The Inquisitor wasn't back from his journey yet.

 

He should have been back several days ago, but they hadn't seen him or his people. Dorian had already been worried, of course, even before the bird showed up at his window. The conversations with Nylian had grown few and far between as they grew closer to Skyhold, presumably because they were traveling at a slower and harder to keep pace, and he had less time to chat in the mornings. He'd said they'd been slowed by a large snowfall, traveling at a lesser speed because of it, but even with that he should have returned already. There was no reason it should have taken them this long to get back to Skyhold, snow or no snow. Leliana seemed worried in her letter, which was unusual for her, to be so blatantly open in her writing, and probably meant that her worry was much stronger than she let on. Her reasoning, of course, only made it worse for Dorian - Nylian's hart had apparently returned, as well as most of the horses, but none of the soldiers had, and when they sent people out to look, there was evidence of a large avalanche. Deep buried snow, and just past that, remnants of a campfire, unburied. They could estimate the party had reached the area before the avalanche, but there was no evidence they got out of it.

 

That, and Tevinter armor was found nearby, along with several firework charges. Leliana didn't mince words when she said it was probably an assassination attempt.

 

Dorian crumpled the letter between his fingers, letting himself feel the heartbreak. The bubbling, rising, deep pain that losing a loved one brought. Most people didn't live through avalanches, not so far from any civilization. It would have taken them too long to get to the site, and longer still to dig anyone out, and by then even the most well prepared traveler would probably be dead. Hot tears dripped onto the letter, the building pain overflowing finally into something physical, hiccups shaking the pages as the tears fell, smudging the writing, leaving wet ink spots behind. It was obvious what the letter was meant to convey - it meant that it was likely Nylian was dead, and he was alone again. That he'd need to come to Skyhold and arrange Nylian's affairs. He knew he shouldn't have put so much hope there - nothing ever went his way. The Inquisitor could survive hell itself, but he couldn't live through the trip home - just Dorian's luck.

 

Eventually, though,  the anguish he'd felt curdling into something different, stronger - rage, sheer, burning hot _rage_. _Tevinter Armor._ That meant one thing and one thing only - his people were responsible for this. Someone had set them up, pushed Nylian into a trap, and they came from _his Kingdom_. Someone who didn't approve of him or his lifestyle or his marriage or any of it wanted Nylian dead, and they did it in such a way where if Leliana hadn't been specifically looking for it they wouldn't have been caught. Dorian was lucky Leliana was smart and knew a trap when she saw one, and could put the pieces together from what she saw and realize what had happened.

 

The tears started to dry up with the new feeling, and instead, it was like a darkness built around him, taking the sun out of the room and making it feel cold. Mages were powerful, incredibly so, because when they got _angry_ , truly _angry_ , there was little power to stop them. He stuffed the letter into his pocket, probably harsher than he intended but rage makes even deft hands clumsy, storming out into the hall, throwing his door open as hard as he could. He wanted to make noise, to clear the servants out of the area, throw his weight around so everyone knew he was mad and dangerous. He knew _exactly_ who to point fingers at first, who exactly wouldn't approve of his choices and his scandals, and she was sitting in her room not too far away. He didn't doubt his mother would have the Inquisitor killed, not after what he did at the party, and having been the wife of a Magister it was certain that she had the contacts to do it, too. The Game in Tevinter was unsubtle and moved quick and deadly, so even she would have the ability to call in a favor for a death or two if she needed to. The servants scattered before him as he moved through the hall, not needing his display to know he was angry and knowing better than to get between him and whomever he was mad at, and he didn't pause at her room, instead just throwing open her door with a bang that rattled the curtains. She was sitting at her window, taking tea and watching the docks, and his entrance startled her.

 

"What have you _done?!_ " He asked, and he looked like a distraught mess, even with the fire in his eyes. He had tear streaks on his face, his hair was ruffled and unbrushed, and he was shaking with pent up rage, the dark cloud still hanging over him. Even a regular person would have been able to see something was wrong, let alone his mother. She regarded him with concern for his emotional state, but there was no indication on her face that she knew what was wrong. She was a decent liar, but even his rage seemed to have startled her out of that. When she didn't immediately balk, or admit her wrongs, Dorian stormed over and shoved the letter in her hands, letting her read it while he talked.

 

"He's _dead_ , you know." He said, arms crossed, the high, angry tones making his voice shake. "Buried alive. Assassination, clearly, and a messy one at that. Can't even be bothered to let the man get home before you have him killed, can you? Is this your way of punishing me for all this? Kill him, take everything away from me so all I have left to fall back on is the Magistrium?"  

 

" _Dorian_ , I'm so sorry..." She started, once she'd read the letter, once she'd heard him speak. There was a moment of silence, and it was pregnant, full of something dark, and she opened her mouth to try and speak again, to try and refute the accusations. Dorian didn't let her start again, grabbing the letter back and folding it neatly this time, putting it in a pocket. If the last word he had from his fiancee was this letter, he didn't want it too wrinkled. He needed to keep it forever.

 

"How _dare_ you." He growled, as he pushed the letter into his pocket, and he was so _angry_ , so livid, his words alone could have ripped the room apart. He could destroy her with magic, if he wanted, and he briefly considered it. Blinding heat, searing electricity, numbing cold, any would do. Hell, he could even turn her own blood against her, if he _really_ felt like it. It was only the thought of his Inquisitor - inspiring hope, and courage, not death or destruction or matricide- that gave his hand pause. "You send people out to bury him alive to spite me, and then _pretend_ you're innocent? I thought you would have more tact getting _caught_. You're lucky he was a better person than I am, _Mother_."

 

"You really think _I_  did this?" She stood, and now she, too, was angry, but in a hurt sort of way, the sort of hurt that comes with bad accusations. Dorian, too, was hurt, but his fury didn't reside in pain of accusation, but righteous anger, justified against an unproven foe, pain from loss and betrayal. "Dorian Pavus, how dare _you_! I would _never_ risk the heir you're finally bringing me. Do you think I'm daft? I may not like _him_ , and I may not like the sham you're pulling and I may not enjoy how much you take pride in upsetting the public, but I wouldn't risk the only normal thing you've done for me in your entire life!" She snapped at him. There was a moment of silence, the building rage in Dorian's veins rushing out of them as quick as it came, the dark cloud fading into this sensation of _cold,_ because honestly, she was right. The one thing she wanted out of him would have died in that avalanche just as much as the Inquisitor would have. If _she_ were responsible, she would have waited until the child were born and _then_ attempted the assassination. There was no reason for her to act otherwise.

 

Dorian sat down on her window seat, and put his head in his hands, his rage now gone, leaving only true sorrow. He was now without fiancée, without heir, without the love of his life, and without anyone to blame for it. He could feel the fury bubbling just under his skin, out of reach but there, still there, and he was suddenly so lost as to what to do with it. His mother sat down, putting an arm around his back, and it was like the well of sorrows, the loss and the pain and the perceived betrayal, finally caught up to him, and he cried. He might have had a lot of mistrust of his mother, and he might have hated her often, and she might have been an actual ass to him more often than not, but she was still his mother and there was nothing like being held in the arms of someone who was _supposed_ to love him unconditionally and actually feeling like that was happening for once. She seemed to actually be sad for him, honestly and truly, and for a moment he was able to put aside their issues and let her hold him and let himself feel comforted by her. For a moment, the space Nylian left behind was filled by someone he didn't expect to comfort him ever again, and it was better. For a moment.

 

"I'll put feelers out while I'm here and see if I can find anything worthwhile. You shouldn't be _so_ surprised, Dorian, you made plenty of enemies doing what you did. The status quo is the most precious resource to some people here, and you took the whole thing and turned it on its head. You go back to Skyhold. Do what you need to do. I'll let everyone know the marriage is postponed until you send back word that he's been found." She rubbed Dorian's back, her words insistent that he _would_ be found, that little spark of hope the one thing Dorian needed, and he eventually quieted himself. It was no use crying, not right then. He had work to do - maybe they'd find Nylian yet, he told himself, based on her words, and he'd be alright.

 

He was, after all, good at doing the impossible.

 

~*~

 

He wasn't sure what he expected, but this clearly wasn't it, and he felt the spark of hope sink into something much worse.

 

Dorian had ridden out from Tevinter as soon as he was physically capable, which was sometime that morning. No escort, no company, just Dorian and a horse and his staff - he didn't need protection from anyone, because the first person to try and stop him getting to Skyhold would realize exactly how powerful of a mage he was. He didn't stop during the evenings, riding straight through the nights, only stopping to nap when he couldn't stay up anymore, and only napping a few hours at a time. He cut the time down from two weeks to one week fairly easily that way, riding up to the site of the accident fairly quickly after receiving the letter. When he arrived, he looked tired, drawn in the face, and so, so somber, a deep and profound sadness to his face, and there was ample reason why. The scene he'd rode up on was not what he'd expected to see.

 

There were at least two bodies that he could see. There were several Inquisition workers currently attempting to dig through the settled snow, and a few more around a fire and tents, eating lunch and warming their hands. There were two bodies set by the fire, frozen straight through, thawing in the heat - though Dorian could quickly tell from the armor that neither were Nylian. There was also part of a horse sticking out of the snow, just its front legs visible, which many of the men were currently trying to dig around and check underneath, just in case someone was stuck under the horse's bulk. It looked like they eventually planned to remove the horse, but the first task was making sure there was no one else underneath it. "Magister Pavus!" One of the scouts got up from his place by the fire, running up to greet Dorian, his face just as somber.

 

"No good news, then?" Dorian asked, hesitating. He wanted to get off his horse, to get digging, to wear his knuckles red and raw in the snow, but he knew that wasn't practical. There were enough people with the right tools doing the digging and he had very little way to help that they weren't already providing. Even his use of magic would be too much - if there was anyone still alive down there, moving that much snow at once might kill them, as the rest of the mountain could just come pounding down on them all. It was a delicate operation, and he knew better than to intervene, but his hands clutched at the reins tightly all the same. His horse shifted on its feet, reading Dorian's hesitation and becoming nervous.

 

"Not yet, ser." The scout took off his hat, running it around in his hands. "We found two of our men, ser, and one of the horses. But no Inquisitor, ser. He and the Lieutenant of the Chargers are still missing." The scout looked back, and Dorian finally dismounted from his horse. Hidden in the trees, currently shoveling buckets of snow out of the way, faster than any of the scouts, was the Iron Bull. It looked like he'd been out there for a while, having cleared nearly an entire section of snow on his own, systematically moving through sections as he searched. There was no way to tell how long he'd been out there, but they'd given him a blanket. He wore it as a cloak around his shoulders, but it didn't seem to be keeping the cold off him, as he still had no shirt, and ultimately, he didn't seem to care. Dorian pushed past the scout, who went back to the lunch he'd been eating, and approached Bull, who was muttering to himself in what sounded like a series of Qunlat swears. It almost sounded like a mantra at this point, a meditative thing, something to keep his head cool.

 

"Ah, The Iron Bull. I hoped I'd see you again, friend, but this isn't exactly how I imagined we'd meet." Dorian managed his usual facade again, a soft smile on his face, and Bull turned. He didn't look like he'd been crying, but he looked almost... angry. Sad, sure, somewhere deep, but it was like he was angry that he was _sad_ , among other things. He looked tired, too, and for a moment the men shared a mutual understanding, the exhaustion and emotional toil of losing someone they loved too fiercely to ever think of losing having weighed heavily on them both. He looked at Dorian when the man spoke, and it was like he considered not putting down the shovel for just a moment, just not stopping, but after a second he jammed the sharp end into a nearby tree and stepped away from his work. "I'm sorry." Dorian said, softly, shuffling a foot in the snow like he was digging a little, like he was aimlessly trying to put some effort in. Like he felt bad about not being there sooner. "I came as soon as I heard."

 

"I know." Bull's voice was deep, a little horse, like he'd been talking to himself constantly for a while now. He grunted, cleared his throat, awkwardly waiting, arms crossed. Dorian hesitated, unsure if he should try, but after a moment he stepped forward anyway, open arms, asking for a hug. Bull reciprocated, but only because he was asked, and that was fine. Bull's arms were strong, and he was surprisingly hot in the cold outside, and Dorian could tell Bull probably needed the comfort as much as he did, whether or not he wanted it. They lingered in each other's arms a moment, two souls who'd lost too much, and then pulled apart, Bull going right back to the shovel.

 

"Come back to Skyhold with me." Dorian said, after a moment of watching him dig. He decided he might as well help while they talked, and settled down in the snow to start to dig. It wasn't much, as he had no shovel, but he could move a little snow with his hands, and it gave him something to do in the long stretching silences between his words. Bull wasn't responding, digging with a rhythm that said he'd been at it a while. "Let them do the hard work for now, you've already done more than all of them together. We'll have... we'll have plenty of work to do once they're found. Settling their affairs, and all that." Dorian tried to force a bitter smile, but his facade shattered just a little at his words. Settling the Inquisitor's affairs was a burden he had no desire to shoulder. It was too final.

 

"No." Bull didn't turn to him when he spoke, hefting a shovel full of snow into a pile he'd been creating. There was another long, drawn out silence before he spoke again. "I need to be the one to find Krem. He was my Lieutenant, so I should be the one to find him. It's my responsibility. The Chargers don't leave men behind." Bull's voice was almost a growl, and he paused in his digging, gripping at the shovel handle tightly. Whatever it was that kept him focused, that was starting to shatter, the brewing emotion almost physically visible around him, even though he wasn't a mage. He gripped so hard the wood of the shovel made a soft cracking noise in protest, and then he swung out with it, slamming it hard into the tree he'd shoved it in before. Snow dusted down on them both, a light and soft snowfall, and the shovel stuck hard there. "He didn't deserve this." He snapped, and there was some kind of fury on his face, and... blame? "I should have been in his place, gone in his stead." He pulled on the shovel, and the handle cracked in half, and with a grunt, he tossed the handle off to the side. He grumbled something in Qunlat Dorian didn't understand, pulling the end of the shovel out of the tree.

 

"You would have been _killed_." Dorian sounded exasperated, because he realized what was going on. Bull blamed _him_ for getting them both killed. Blamed his request for no backup, blamed whatever actions he took in Tevinter to get someone this mad at him, blamed him entirely. "You wouldn't have crossed the border without someone trying to blast you. He at least managed to get out of Tevinter in one piece. Did you _want_ to start a war on the Inquisition's behalf? Because that's what a Qunari wandering into Tevinter would have caused."

 

"Better a war than what we have now." Bull grumbled. "Now we have no leader, and all his things are at the convenient mercy of his _bas saarbas_ boyfriend. Worked out well for you, didn't it? Keep him around for a while, but as soon as he gets to be too much trouble for you, have him offed out in the woods, right? Clean cut, and you act the victim, cry a little, and no one blames you. Everyone else was collateral damage." Bull's words weren't harsh in tone, but they stung like they were. It was clear that was what he thought, the mind of a Ben-Hassrath still untrusting, still trying to figure out the writing on the wall, whether there was any or not. Dorian's hands balled into fists in the snow.

 

"You think I _wanted_ this." He said - it wasn't a question, but a statement - and then he laughed, bitter and tired of everyone and everything. "I thought you, of all your people, would be different. But no, of course you blame the Tevinter mage for the his own loss, without even asking for proof. _Hah._ " Dorian leaned back in the snow, hands balled on his knees. His knuckles were red - this is what he wanted, right? Digging until he couldn't feel his fingers anymore? It didn't make him feel any better, though - honestly, talking with Bull just made him feel worse. "I didn't kill him, for the record. I actually was planning the opposite, but of course you wouldn't have assumed that." He bit his lip to keep from saying more that he didn't entirely mean, looking down at his hands. He didn't see Bull look over, see the _I made a mistake_ look wash over Bull's face. The Qunari set the shovel end down in the snow, standing there, now, awkwardly.

 

"You didn't kill him." Bull asked. There was a lot of trust between them, which was the only thing that really made him change his views. If they hadn't known each other the entire time the Inquisition fought Corypheus, if they hadn't spent the time traveling together with the Inquisitor, he wouldn't have believed Dorian in the slightest. He was, after all, a Tevinter mage. This was the kind of things Tevinter mages did. "Did he tell you, then?"

 

"What, that he was pregnant?" Dorian laughed again, a bark of a thing, wiping at his eyes. They were wet, and he didn't know when that started happening but he really wanted it to stop. It was starting to freeze on his eyelashes. "Yes, he did. Did you think I would kill him because of that?"

 

"It's all very convenient." Bull admitted, leaning against the tree he damaged. "He gets pregnant, you've gotten all powerful in Tevinter. Figured you hadn't taken it well, too much of a threat to your position." He looked over to the scouts, who were having a hard time digging the horse out. It seemed they hadn't found anyone under it. "Mm. You think someone set it up to make it look like you did it?"

 

"Possibly." Dorian sighed, standing, brushing the snow from his knees. He was _freezing_ by that point, and he couldn't dig anymore. He wasn't really making progress anyway. "They didn't know he was with child, but..." He crossed his arms, running a hand through his hair. This was so tiring, thinking about it all critically. "I _did_ ask him to marry me. My mother didn't send for an assassination, but we made plenty of enemies. I wouldn't be surprised if they wanted to frame me for his death, pregnant or not pregnant." He looked up, and Bull was standing close, closer than he had been. The Qunari wrapped the blanket he'd been wearing around Dorian's shoulders. It was warm, and the mage realized he'd been shaking.

 

"Go sit by the fire. The other Chargers should be waking up soon, and I think Dalish might have something to warm you up." He put a hand on Dorian's back, his touch surprisingly soft. "I'm going to keep digging for a while longer." He paused, looking down at Dorian. "For the record, I don't think you did it anymore. And that just makes me _more_ angry." He forced a smile, angry a feeling he seemed to be comfortable with, and Dorian chuckled. "If we find who did this, I'll let you kill them, but I want the first shot. For Krem."

 

"I think I can take that deal." Dorian felt a little better, knowing he wasn't universally hated by his friends. It was just a lot of misplaced anger and hurt and words no one meant all wrapped up in loss and heartbreak, and he understood. The benches by the fire were empty, and he left Bull to dig, only using the bottom end of the shovel now that the handle was broken. Dorian sat down, wrapping the blanket around his cold shoulders.

 

He hoped they were all wrong. That was all he had left to do.

 

~*~

 

It was so close he could taste it.

 

Literally, there was a taste to the air as they finally crested the last hill and found the thin spot in the veil. It wasn't any kind of mirage, but a real thing, thank the Maker, and there was a taste to the air around it - metallic, like blood on the tongue, and the sharpness of snow just after. They could see through the shimmering of the veil snow, and in the very far distance, Skyhold. "See, we made it." Nylian said, detaching himself from Krem's arm to stumble up to the mirage. Krem didn't linger too far behind, unsure of what to do next.

 

"How do we open it?" He asked, concerned. Nylian didn't respond in words, simply reaching out with the anchor to the shimmering area. It solidified under his fingers, like tearing at a curtain, like silk lines under his fingers, and he pulled. The Fade crackled and sparked and the metallic taste grew strong but it opened into a rift, a small tear big enough to step through, snow clearly on the other side.

 

"You first." Nylian gestured for Krem to step through, and he looked nervous, but did as he was told. He reached out, and there was a solidity to the mirage, but his hand pushed through it all the same, and once the surface tension was gone he slipped through with ease. He stepped out of the Fade and he immediately fell, the ground underneath not flat and not near enough to the rift to simply step on, and rolled all the way down the hill underneath. Nylian followed just after, falling prey to the same hill, rolling all the way down. Luckily, he was near enough still where he could reach up and close the rift - a practice he was so familiar with he could do it with his eyes closed - because he couldn't move otherwise. The time spent in the Fade caught up to them all at once, and they were suddenly incredibly tired, starving, and cold.

 

"Maybe we should have stayed in the rift." Krem said, softly, lying in the snow pile at the end of the hill on his back. It started to snow, soft flakes drifting down onto his armor and sticking there. "It was warm there." He tried to sit up, but his body was too tired, and he couldn't. "I don't know if we'll make it to Skyhold like this."

 

"Don't give up hope yet." Nylian had no real answer for Krem, but he refused to give up. Could they move? No. Could they walk? Definitely not. But someone could find them, and it was worth hoping for, because it was either that or dying in despair. He sighed, softly, feeling the weight of his limbs settling. It settled like guilt, heavy and hard to move under. "I'm sorry, Krem. I shouldn't have brought you out here."

"S'alright." Krem didn't seem to want to move either. "Rather it be me than some other poor sod. You could trust me, if nothing else." He sighed. They both felt heavy, and they both stopped talking in that moment, closing their eyes. This was it, then, Nylian thought to himself. Walked all the way through the Fade, made it so close, and still, they were going to die there. Great.

 

_"Amatus!"_

 

~*~

 

Dorian spent several days at that camp, helping out all he could, but there wasn't anything to really be done. They checked everywhere, but they couldn't find much. The horse was unearthed, the bodies were thawed, and they continued to look, but it seemed like they were reaching a dead end. They were sending the bodies back to Skyhold, and Dorian decided it was best he went back with them. There were affairs to settle, after all, and they couldn't look forever. Bull decided to stay behind, and the Chargers stayed with him, so it was just a few Inquisition soldiers and Dorian riding along with the funeral caravan. It was a somber line, and no one spoke, or planned to speak, the entire day's ride back to Skyhold.

 

Dorian led the procession, the soldiers behind him carting the bodies behind horses, their pace slow. He looked up at the mountain and the sky, like maybe it would gift him some answer, and there, just in the corner of his vision, he saw it  - the briefest flash of green. He felt the air itself spark, the crackle of magic somewhere off in the distance, and he was off his horse and running in a matter of seconds. He knew that static on his skin, the crawling, pulling sensation so familiar he could recount it in his dreams.

 

He'd been there at every Fade rift the Inquisitor closed, and could recognize the energy put out easily.

 

He stumbled up the hill in front of him, the snow deep, and there, he paused, but only for a moment. A green wisp of energy lingered in the air for a moment, the static up there hot on his skin, and there were two bodies in the snow, mostly uncovered. They looked in bad shape, cold, frost settling on the armor, but he recognized them both instantly.

 

" _Amatus!_ " Dorian cried out, scrambling over. Nylian wasn't entirely conscious, his body too battered to support his sustained mind and keep him alive at the same time, but he was somewhat there behind his eyes. Dorian pressed a hand to Nylian's chest - heartbeat, that was good, but it was sluggish, slow - and lifted the man into his arms. He didn't want to let go for the rest of his life.

 

"You! Go back and tell the Iron Bull I've found them!" He turned to one of the soldiers that had followed him up the hill, and the man turned without hesitation. The others ran over, and between the group they managed to move both Krem and Nylian onto the cart, wrapping them in blankets without disturbing their wounds. It would do, for now.

 

~*~

 

It took three days before the Inquisitor woke up again. He came back to light, to warmth, to heaviness that felt good, and for a moment he thought he was dead. But then there was a tingle of pain in his limbs, and then the tingle became something much worse, and he realized that if he was dead he wouldn't be feeling pain. He slowly opened his eyes, the light bright, too bright for a long moment, and when his vision settled, he realized he was in Skyhold. They'd set him up in his quarters, turning the empty space into a makeshift healer's tent, wrapping him in blankets and keeping him warm in the cold room. It was nice, waking up at home for the first time in a few weeks, and he didn't feel panicked or worried at all, which was a good feeling.

 

He sat up, very carefully, only able to use his one arm, the other spiking pain through it when he moved it. His arm had been dislocated, luckily not broken, and they'd set and bandaged his arm as best they could, having changed him out of his armor and old bandages and put him in clean pajamas. His ankle had also broken, and that was wrapped up tightly, tied to the bed in such a way where he couldn't move even if he wanted to. Easy way to keep him in bed, he figured - tie him down tightly enough where he couldn't get up. He looked around, seeing Krem off to the side in a bed they'd pulled up there for him - better to have all the distressed patients together, rather than scattered around Skyhold - Bull asleep on the floor next to him. It looked like he'd already been awake once, a plate on Nylian's desk with a half eaten apple on it. Dorian was at the end of the bed, head on the bedspread, sitting in a chair, also asleep, having clearly not left the room in days. Nylian chuckled at the image. He was adorable, sleeping there, hair mussed. 

 

"Dorian." Nylian reached forward with his good arm, shaking Dorian awake very gently, a smile on his face. The man grumbled, yawned, and looked up. He looked so haggard, dark circles under his eyes, a tiredness there. Seeing Nylian awake, however, had him up very quickly, pulling his chair over to the front of the bed and wrapping Nylian in a hug so tight the Inquisitor thought he'd break in half. It lasted a long time, and Dorian eased off after a moment, and his arms were warm and nice around Nylian's shoulders. He pulled away, taking the Inquisitor's hands in his own, looking of all things _relieved_.

 

"Festis bei umo canavarum, amatus." He said, softly, pressing a kiss to Nylian's fingers. He kissed each one individually, tenderly touching each knuckle with his lips. "I was afraid you weren't going to wake up, after all that. What _happened_? When we found you, I was sure you'd died."

 

"There was an avalanche. Someone caused it." Nylian spoke softly, unwilling to wake Bull or Krem, and that seemed fine by both Dorian and his voice. "I saw explosions on the mountain. I think someone set us up. Attempted assassination and all that."

 

" _Clearly_." Dorian rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. "We found Tevinter armor near the site, and a campfire. I believe someone from my hometown wasn't as happy to let you leave as the rest were, though I have thoroughly interrogated my mother, and it wasn't her." He sighed. "The question is, how did you get _out_?"

 

"I, uh, opened a rift into the Fade." Nylian chuckled. He seemed almost embarrassed that this was his solution he came up with, but whatever works. "We were buried, and there seemed like no other option, so I tried it and it... worked." He shrugged. "We found a way out, though I don't know how long we were there. It feels like we were there forever, though no time seemed to pass."

 

"It's been two weeks, amatus." Dorian explained, softly. " _Two weeks_. It's a blessing that you managed to get through the Fade not only unharmed but alive, considering you went two weeks without food or water or shelter. You should tell the Chantry you did it again, just in case they've decided to doubt your Herald status. Took another pilgrimage to the Fade, fasted for several days, all that." Dorian smiled, and it was the kind of smile Nylian was used to, the snarky, sassy bright smile he saw often, and it was a good sign. It meant everything was going to be alright. "Oh _yes_ , Divine Victoria, you won't _believe_ what happened again, I just popped into the Fade and saved myself and my friend from dying under an avalanche! If this isn't _Andraste's_ doing, what could it be? I managed to make it two weeks without food!" He mocked a voice, over dramatic as ever, and Nylian laughed.

 

"The more important thing right now is finding out who ordered that attempt on my life." Nylian shook his head softly. It was weird to talk about this assassination, like it was a bother and not like someone had tried to kill him. "If they think I'm going to let someone try and bury me in snow again without finding them, they're very wrong." He nodded. Someone had to take this seriously, and he couldn't tell if Dorian was or not.  

 

"We'll find them, amatus. I even have an idea." Dorian shifted out of his chair, helping Nylian slip over in the bed so he could lay beside him. It was hard with the ankle tie, but they managed. "The best course of action would probably be to pretend you're still missing. Head back to Tevinter with a few spies, have a few men still camped on the mountain side. Either they'll send someone out there to finish the job, or boast loudly that you're dead, and they're sure of it. Either way, they'll out themselves and we'll be able to find them." He sighed. "It means I'll need to head back fairly shortly, but for now, I'm not leaving your side for anything. We can keep your survival quiet for a few days, I hope."

 

"We'll do our best." Nylian grinned, pressing a kiss to Dorian's forehead. "We haven't announced it to the world like everything else. For now, let's rest. We can work out the details tomorrow."


	10. Here It Goes Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many apologies again for the late update - I had a hard drive failure that set me back, uh, a lot in terms of updates on stuff so it took this long to get back up and running. Expect more updates soonish <3

Dorian didn't leave the Inquisitor's side for several more days. Tevinter could wait, the search could wait, it could all wait. It seemed Iron Bull was of the same mind, not leaving Krem's side for anything other than the occasional errand or sparring match to get the fear out of his system. Both the survivors were fairing well, however, and after a few days of rest they were talkative and bright in their words and motions. Even if Dorian had found out in that weird moment that both injured boys were trans, and that Bull had known _before_ the whole mess that Nylian was both trans _and_ pregnant - damn observant Ben-Hassrath eye - it was a good time all the same.

 

Having a healer proclaim that the baby would be fine certainly helped.

 

The healer also proclaimed that Nylian was to limit travel as much as possible, however. Travel in general was bad for the baby, especially travel on horses, and until they got the assassination business sorted, he needed to stay where he was safe. No more near misses with avalanches or getting stabbed or any other nonsense, the healer said. Nearly dying was _definitely_ not good for the baby, and _actually_ dying was even worse. Of course, this was a bit of a pain, because it meant Nylian was Skyhold bound and couldn't even go on diplomatic excursions, but at least they had planned for it, for the moment. Josephine could handle the diplomats, and had a good excuse of health for a while, but it also meant Dorian would be traveling back to Tevinter alone. Of course there were sacrifices to be had, even if he risked getting himself killed going back there. Just leaving in the first place was hard enough, and he wasn't thinking about much else past that yet.

 

"You know, I thought I'd give this to you some day, but I didn't think it would be like this." Dorian said, softly, the morning he was supposed to leave. He was perched on Nylian's bed, the other curled up under the covers. He still couldn't move because of the ankle, but they'd been given a little privacy - Krem was up and walking again, and Bull insisted they walk the ramparts and take the stairs at least once per day until Krem felt ready to try his hand at training again - and Dorian could speak freely.

 

He had something in his hands, clutched like it was the most precious thing in the world to him, small and red and glowing vibrantly, and he passed that to Nylian. It was warm to the touch, pleasantly so, an inner heat coming from it like a warm hand, and it hummed lightly against Nylian's skin. It looked like a small vial, encased in a brass and bronze circle like it was meant to house it there forever, the vial full of red, hot, moving energy. "Do you know what this is, amatus?" Dorian asked, softly, tracing a finger over the vial, and then the bronze. It hummed at his touch, much louder, a real sound and not just a feeling. "This is my phylactery."

 

"A... phylactery?" Nylian asked. He was only vaguely aware of phylacteries - Circle Mages had them, usually, but the Dalish didn't make them. He remembered the Keeper thought they were barbaric. "What is it, and what is it for?"

 

"It's a homing device." Dorian said. As he talked, he traced lines over first the phylactery and then Nylian's fingers. "Young mages, especially in the Circle, are required to undergo a ritual before they're accepted as apprentices, where they place a small amount of their blood in a vial. Magically enchanted, this then comes their phylactery. In the Circle, they use it to keep tabs on all their mages, because when a phylactery gets close to the mage who's blood resides in it, it _hums_." He pressed his hand to the device as he spoke, and it hummed loudly, as an example. "They use it to make sure none of their young mages get bad ideas in their heads and wander off to do Maker knows what outside of the Circle's reach. In _Tevinter_ , they use them as a means of control, less because they don't want their young mages running off to practice Blood Magic like the Circle does and more because if you're not being controlled in Tevinter something is very wrong. Which is exactly why I stole mine." Dorian chuckled, proud of himself.

 

"And you're giving it to me?" Nylian asked, concerned. He wasn't sure how much control this thing actually had, but he didn't know if he was comfortable with having that over Dorian. His fear only made the mage chuckle, which put Nylian at ease.

 

"Yes, though there's no need for the face. All it does is hum when it gets near me. You can't do anything but find me with it." He pressed a hand to Nylian's hands, holding them and the phylactery together. "It’s still quite disastrous in the wrong hands, of course, even if it’s just a homing beacon, because knowledge is power and all that. But I'm going into dangerous territory now, and everyone knows it. If this goes wrong in any way, I'm going to need to flee Tevinter, and quickly. It's better if you have this, because they can't find me without it, and if I get in trouble, if I get lost like you did..." He trailed off, though the meaning was obvious. "There's no one else in the world I'd rather have this than you, Amatus."

 

"I'll keep it safe for you." Nylian said, softly, holding the phylactery tightly. "I hope I won't have to use it, though. Promise me you'll come back here safely once this is all done, alright?"

 

"I can promise that I will try my best." Dorian chuckled. "I dare say Tevinter has tried and failed to kill me in the past, so I'm not _that_ worried that they'll succeed this time when they've failed so many times before. I just would rather not have them find me when the assassin might be the Archon himself, because if that were the case I would have to find myself at the mercy of the Magistrium and they're not big on letting people go once they've decided they've done wrong." Dorian chuckled, standing up from the bed. This was it, then, his goodbye. He sighed. Goodbyes were always hard.

 

"One day we'll be able to live together without any of this nonsense plaguing us." Nylian said, watching him stand and unable to stand with him. "No more demons, or assassinations, or Magisters. Just peace, I hope." He chuckled. It was a good thought to hope for. "You, me, our daughter..."

 

"Oh, you know it's a girl now?" Dorian grinned, that cheeky grin of his. "Something I miss, then? Did you find something out, or are you just guessing?"

 

"I don't know." Nylian shrugged. "It just feels like it'll be a girl, is all." He pressed a hand to his stomach. There was no concrete way to know until the baby was born, of course, but he felt like that was right. "We'll see eventually, won't we?"

 

"Either way, a nice, peaceful life with you and our daughter sounds delightful, amatus." Dorian sighed, pressing one last kiss to Nylian's hands before heading for the stairs. "I'll message you often as I can, and we'll sort out this mess quickly. I don't want to have to postpone this wedding forever."

 

"Neither do I, Dorian. Neither do I." Nylian watched him go, relaxing into the bed. He was alone again, but this time, he was safe, and Dorian would be fine. The man was capable, a good mage and a better sweet talker, and he'd make it out of anything they threw at him with minimal effort. Or at least that's what Nylian hoped.

 

~*~

 

“You won’t _believe_ the rumors I’m hearing, amatus.” Dorian said. It had been several days in Tevinter, and no one had said a peep worth investigating. He’d arrived to sincere condolences from several of the Magisters in the area, and he had to have a _very_ long conversation with Maevaris Tilani about what was going on, because she was worried about him, but otherwise, there hadn’t been anything. Life in Tevinter moved on like life in Tevinter always had, like no one had died or gone missing or anything had really happened at all. It was almost a little disconcerting, the idea that he could cause a scandal _that_ large, upset everyone so much, and then come back to a world where it was like nothing happened. If there was any clue that there was foul play involved, it was that. The only thing he _had_ heard, mostly from his mother after her usual gossip sessions with the other wives she’d have tea with, were insubstantial rumors that, of all things, blamed _him_. Him or his mother or orders from his late father. “They think I did it! The actual _nerve_ of these people, trying to trounce my name while I’m supposed to be grieving.”

 

“Are you surprised?” Nylian asked, from the other end of the line. Two and some weeks out from Dorian’s departure, and he was walking again, and able to do various things around Skyhold. He was about twelve weeks into the pregnancy, according to Mother Giselle, and everything looked more or less alright, though she was worried about how thin he still was. He should have been putting on more weight, but he was still rail thin, and though he was eating well, he seemed to stay that way no matter what. Only time would tell if that was a problem, but it wasn’t worth worrying Dorian with. “It _is_ Tevinter.”

 

“No, not entirely.” Dorian sighed, shaking his head. He was in his room, watching out the window, trying not to imagine a bird landing on the frame again to tell him something else terrible had happened. He didn’t think he’d be able to look at the window the same again, or birds. “But it’s still a little distressing to think people _actually_ consider that. Maybe that was the point, really – set me up with your death. Instead of playing the scandal down, play it up and out of my favor.” Dorian shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “Either way, we’re making an official move this evening, so there’s no more waffling around on the issue.”

 

“Oh?” Nylian was on his balcony, looking over the entirety of Skyhold, watching the people garden and train and live on with no cares to his problems. It was a comfort, really, knowing the things that rocked his world so terribly didn’t actually _end_ the world around him. It was strange, thinking Dorian finding the same things in Tevinter caused him stress where it only brought Nylian calm, but it just highlighted the differences between very starkly.

 

“My mother is holding a small soiree tonight to announce that you have been found in good health, and that I am marrying you with their full support. Which, honestly…. Surprised me.” Dorian’s voice was soft, somewhere between like he was trying not to let his mother hear him and afraid that if he spoke too loud he’d break some odd spell and she’d disown him again. “Having a child with you seems to have been the magic it took to get my mother to accept me. Possibly being in allyship with a very powerful force in the South might also have helped, but if that was the case she wouldn’t have waited until she heard you were pregnant to change her tune.” Dorian chuckled, giving the Inquisitor a small smile. “Once again, amatus, you work miracles.”

 

“Please be careful.” Nylian said. Sure, it was brilliant that his mother was accepting them, even if it was a farce on her part, but it was still dangerous. Anyone could attend the party and anything could happen. He remembered the size of the last party he’d been to – if an assassin wanted to hide, they had a great place to do it.

 

“Of course.” Dorian shook his head at the concern, seemingly unworried. “It will be quite small, so you know, even for Tevinter standards. She has only invited those that have shown interest in pawning their daughters off to marry me, so she may give them the news. It’s actually quite the play – they can’t be _too_ mad, because she’s saving them face by confirming our marriage in private, _and_ we’ll have every Magister that has any reason to attempt at your life in the same room as we give them the news. If any of them did it, we’ll know.” Dorian stood, giving Nylian a small smile. “Now, I must go help my mother set up and be entirely overjoyed you’ve been found alive and in good health. I love you.” He blew a kiss to the gem, and Nylian pretended to catch it, rolling his eyes all the same.

 

“Please be careful and message me again soon. I love you too.” The glass went dim, and Dorian sighed. He’d been playing at the unworried, happy air for so long, it felt nice to let the dread of the evening finally settle on him. He was _incredibly_ worried, though it seemed ill advised to tell his fiancée of such, considering. Most Magisters didn’t survive assassination attempts – Nylian was luckier than anyone particularly seemed to realize – and those that _did_ usually didn’t gather all their enemies in one place to give them particularly bad news and far too much wine. That was a recipe for disaster, but it was all they could do. He sighed, heading to his wardrobe, shaking his head and trying to put the worry out of his brain.

 

He needed to find the most armor he could wear without looking like he was armored, just in case.

 

~*~

 

Dorian was two glasses of wine deep and his mother _still_ hadn’t made the announcement.

 

It was clear from the moment he set foot into the room that his mother hadn’t even _hinted_ at the announcement in her invitations, because the Magisters involved _jumped_ him as soon as he made an appearance. All _I’m so sorry_ and _I feel for your loss_ and _now that you’re single again_ and Dorian hated every single second of it. He rebuffed every advance, flung around catty insults like he was passing out glasses of wine, and everyone seemed to take his hostility in jest – like they assumed he was no longer in charge of his own relations, considering who was throwing the party. Dorian’s mother looked on in smug satisfaction, and he quickly realized that letting him stew in their affections was her way of paying him back for his announcement at his party. Just a way for his mother to get her social rocks off against them all, and honestly, for the first hour, he hadn’t even been particularly mad. He probably deserved it, for causing such a ruckus at the party. But after the second hour, he was starting to grow weary of her game.

 

There wasn’t enough wine for this.

 

“Mother.” Dorian spoke quietly, breaking her from her immediate conversation with another Magister, pulling her away physically, and she sighed. “Can you _please_ make this announcement soon? If you’re trying to marry me off in secret, you realize it won’t work, and if you’re just trying to pay me back you’ve done your fair share already. Further stalling will just make _me_ have to make the announcement, and I can’t save your face and prove that you _knew_ if I have to make it, you understand?” Dorian’s threat was subtle, and his mother nodded. “You’ve had your fun, now let’s be adults and get this over with, yes? We’re still trying to catch an assassin, after all. That, and you’ll run out of wine soon and I’d rather deal with angry mages when they’re drunk rather than sober.”

 

“Alright, alright. Maker forbid a mother try and get a little satisfaction before she sells her soul away to being a scandal forever.” His mother sighed dramatically, but she seemed to understand. At least she was _actually_ planning on making the announcement and not just leaving Dorian high and dry. She took his hand, directing him to a specific corner of the room, where he could see every single person there. He nodded, slipping off to his corner, watching her approach the front of the room. She signaled for silence, and the party followed suit, ready and willing to listen to her, considering their understanding of the party.

 

“Esteemed guests.” She started, and the Magisters in question clapped a little for themselves in her pause. “I have an announcement to make. I assume you all know why you are here this evening.” She paused, stringing them on just a _little_ longer, and Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle at the hopeful faces in the crowd. “I have called you all specifically because each of you have suggested interest in marrying off a daughter or sister to my Dorian.” They all nodded, eager to hear the rest of her proclamation. “It is with my delight to say that Dorian will in fact be married.” She nodded, and they nodded, and Dorian watched her take _such delight_ in leading them on and on and on. He knew the game she was playing and he found it delightful and a little terrifying, honestly.

 

“Who’s he marrying?” One Magister finally asked, impatient and unwilling to play his mother’s stalling game. They were expecting her to say she was marrying the daughter of this Magister, or that Magister, and then they expected they would congratulate the man like he’d just won a lottery, drink a lot more, and go home a little sadder but ultimately satisfied. What they didn’t know was that they were playing a very different game, and Dorian watched his mother’s smile grow wicked as the moment finally came.

 

“Inquisitor Nylian Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, of Skyhold.” Dorian’s mother clipped Nylian’s name out, but she otherwise kept the smile on her face, bolstered by the fact that she was met entirely with silence. “Dorian’s engagement announcement is being held firm by his family, and I have accepted his engagement to his fiancée. It is true, the Inquisitor befell an incident on the mountainside recently, but we have been informed he is currently alive and in good health, considering the scare. As such, the wedding will go as planned, and I would direct any questions towards Dorian.” His mother quickly stepped off the platform she’d found to stand on before they started trying to attack her for the announcement, leaving Dorian at the center of the sea of eyes as they processed the news in silence, mouths agape. It was uncomfortable, but he’d been through worse.

 

“You… can’t, though.” One Magister said, though he seemed less angry and more _sad_. Distressed. Like he’d just been told his dog had been hit by a car, strange and detached sorrow. Dorian knew the bulk of his emotions would hit him in a few hours, and he didn’t exactly want to be there when it did. “It isn’t _legal_.”

 

“In Tevinter, not exactly. But luckily, the rest of Thedas isn’t under the Tevinter Imperium any longer, and thus, they have their own laws and customs.” Dorian explained, already done with the conversation and only having just started. He kept a smile on his face all the same, because that was what he was good at, and letting the others see weakness in his face would mean he would have lost. “It is entirely legal to marry another man in Orlais, Ferelden, Nevarra, The Free Marches, and Antiva.” He listed off the countries, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was telling the truth, but he didn’t care. He figured Antiva at _least_ had no qualms with marriages between two men, and he dared the rest of Thedas to try and stop him.

 

“I heard the Inquisitor is a woman.” Another Magister piped up. He was mad, angry, but controlled. He would likely dig into his slaves later, and Dorian winced at the thought. He was the kind of angry one passed down to other people without another thought. “Why can’t she just act like one?”

 

“You heard wrong.” Dorian found his throat a little tighter and his voice a little more dangerous than he wanted, but he kept the grin on his face all the same. “Clearly, someone’s spreading terrible rumors about, and I wouldn’t listen to a word of them. The Inquisitor is a man, and my fiancée, and if you have a problem with that he does still have an army you can personally answer to.” Dorian downed the rest of his wine, ready for the eyes to be off him, because for once the attention was starting to grate at him.

 

“What will you do about an heir?” Another Magister asked. He was clutching his daughter’s shoulders tightly with concern, and she of all people looked _relieved_. Dorian knew the girl, and to call the pair of them amicable would have been a lie, and she seemed to be just as happy he wasn’t marrying her as he was. “What about the Pavus line?”

 

“There are arrangements being made, but they are private ones.” Dorian’s mother stepped in, seeing her son about to start really going off on the party, and Dorian found himself relieved that he didn’t have to keep talking. “I do not ask you and your wife how many times you have attempted to conceive a son to carry on your name, considering the status of your daughter, so you have no need to ask my son the same.” His mother’s words were sharp, and Dorian nearly choked on his drink at the implications, and the Magister in question went red to the ears and proceeded to shuffle his daughter to the door. Dorian’s mother heaved a sigh, addressing the crowd again. “Now, if there are no further interrogations, I’ll have the servants fetch more wine, and we shall celebrate this wedding in earnest.” She said. There were murmurs – did other people have questions? Were there other concerns? Would they give up free wine to get drunk on considering the news?

 

Clapping broke the murmurs and the room dropped to silence, dead silence. One of the Magisters broke from the group, stepping up to Dorian and his mother, and Dorian recognized the man from the party. He had the same sly, shit eating grin on his face, and he was clapping, slow, methodical, like he was applauding a good joke.

 

“Wonderful performance, both of you.” The Magister looked angry, even angrier than before, hidden very badly behind his grin. “I love this whole performance. Getting your mother involved, what a _play_. I’m impressed.” The Magister crossed his arms, and Dorian made a quiet signal to his servants to find someone to drag the man out, because it was clear this was working up to something. “Now, can we _drop_ this act and get on with marrying your son to my daughter?” He opened his hands as though in offering, and Dorian felt something in him snap.

 

“Are you _daft?_ ” Dorian asked, with a bark of a laugh, and the Magister deflated a little. “You asked me the same things at the first party and I told you _no_ very clearly, and yet, here you are. Did you forget?” Dorian went to go get another glass of wine, shaking his head, like he had to have forgotten to be asking again, like no man could be _that_ idiotic. “You’re obviously out of your mind if you still think this is some kind of farce, but I’ll repeat what I told you the first time: I am entirely serious in all of my endeavors, and I’d like to see you try and stop me.” Dorian’s voice held something very dangerous in that moment, something threatening, and he took a sip of his wine. In that moment, his glass shattered in his hands, shards going everywhere, tiny and glittering. The Magister put his hand down, the lingering magic on his fingers a terrible calling card.

 

“You’re making a mistake. This is not how it’s done, and it never will be. I will see a Magister married to another man over my _dead body_.” The Magister said, a threatening tone, and Dorian stepped up to him, getting in his personal space, entirely comfortable that close to a man where the Magister was not. It was clear the Magister hated having Dorian so close, and the other man reveled in his discomfort.

 

“As I said, I would like to see you try and stop me.” Dorian let the words out one at a time, dangerous and terrible. He had the ability to back that threat up and everyone in the room knew it. There was a beat of silence where even the Magister didn’t move, and then Dorian stepped away, going past him to fetch another glass of wine. “As I thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my leave to the balcony for some fresh air. I can _taste_ the unrepressed ego in the air, and it’s _vile_.” He waved off the party, heading out past his mother, brushing past the rest of the guests who decided drinking and talking and partying was probably the best bet, and out onto the balcony. He sighed, leaning on the railing, before pulling the crystal from his clothes.

 

“Inquisitor.” Dorian’s voice was hushed, and for a moment, he sounded almost… afraid. But he clipped that back quickly, ducking away to hide the crystal better from view from inside. Nylian’s face appeared on the other end, sleepy and curious, obviously having been napping or asleep. “ _Amatus_. Listen to me very carefully.” Dorian’s voice held an edge to it, something odd, and Nylian was immediately awake and listening. Whatever Dorian had to tell him was important, almost deadly so. “I think I know who may have attempted to kill you, and you’re not going to like the news.”

 

“Who?” Nylian asked, softly, watching Dorian’s face on the other end of the line. The man opened his mouth like he was going to answer, and then paused, looking first behind him, and the up and over the edge of the crystal. He was silent, silent as his eyes narrowed at whatever he saw, silent as he considered the thing in the distance, and then he spoke again, and it was soft and sad and full of regret.

 

“Sorry, Amatus, another time. I love you.” He said, and then Nylian watched over the crystal as an arrow slipped into view, Dorian’s face a mix of surprise and battle hardened concentration, and then the line went dark.


End file.
